The Bright Young Things
by Hikari M666
Summary: Marik and Bakura hate each other, and they aren't afraid to use their other halves to further fuel the hatred. And a dark and dirty bet involving seduction is only going to make things more interesting. YAOI, language, lemon.
1. Chapter 1

The Bright Young Things

Hey, Hikari M here. I'm posting this because - hold on, why do I have to explain myself? I'm posting this because I can, how's that?

Disclaimer: Why even go there? Has anyone ever seen someone write, "Yes. I invented these characters. You're reading my story with my characters, so give me money!" ? Oh, and I didn't know what the hell to call this thing, so I just picked the song I was listening to. Manson, for anyone who's interested in any way.

Warnings: This one ain't for kiddies. Most prominently there's yaoi and swearing, but add a bit of almost everything else for which there _could _be a warning, and chances are you'll find it somewhere in this fic.

The site also likes to screw around with my punctuation. Any typos are its fault, I guarantee you. Well, I think that's about it. You've come this far, read on!

* * *

When someone woke Bakura, they were usually either very brave or very stupid. But when someone woke Bakura at three in the morning, it was a sign that they had abandoned any hope of living to see the sun rise.

And yet some stupid bastard had taken the risk to ring him. Swearing, he felt around blindly for a minute before finally grabbing hold of the phone that was on the floor by his bed.

"Mm," he mumbled, to show he was (however vaguely) listening.

"Bakura? It's Malik."

Bakura groaned. "Who? Fuck, it's too late…or too early…or something. What is it?"

"I need you to do me a favour."

Malik sounded apprehensive, but not frightened, which perhaps he should have been. Bakura was the last person he should have called for a _favour_. He could practically feel Bakura's growing irritation emanating from the phone.

"What kind of favour?" Bakura asked dangerously.

Hesitantly, Malik answered, "You'll have to get up."

Bakura groaned.

Malik continued. "Then you'll have to get dressed."

Bakura groaned again.

"Then you'll have to come down to the police station," Malik finished.

"_What?_" Bakura yelled. He heard Ryou moving around in the next room and guessed he must have woken him, but he couldn't have cared less. "Why the fuck should I do that, Ishtar?"

"Because I need you to get me out of here," Malik confessed.

Bakura didn't bother getting up. The odds for him bothering to help Malik were very low. "What did you do?"

"We can talk about that after you get me out!" Malik snapped. "Are you coming or not?"

There was a knock at Bakura's door, and without waiting for a response, Ryou walked in. He flicked the light switch, and Bakura had to shield his eyes from the sudden brightness. Ryou, who looked dead on his feet, mouthed, "What's going on?"

Bakura ignored him. "Why don't you get that good-for-nothing yami of yours to do it?" he asked Malik.

The pause before Malik next spoke was immeasurably long, and Bakura became suspicious as to what he was avoiding saying.

"What?" Bakura growled.

"Ah…you see," Malik said, sounding uncomfortable, "Marik's here too."

Bakura suddenly narrowed his eyes, and as the only other person present, it was Ryou at whom the glare was aimed. Ryou looked confusedly back, leaning against the door and seemingly ready to fall asleep at any second.

"So what you're telling me," Bakura said slowly, "is that you _and_ your yami have landed yourselves in jail at _three in the morning_, and expect _me_ to bail you out?"

"Please, Bakura, if you do this I'll owe you big time," Malik begged. "And Marik will too."

"I don't want to do any favours for that bastard," Bakura snapped.

"_Please._ We'll do whatever you want afterwards," Malik needled.

"Anything?" Bakura raised an eyebrow.

"Well – almost anything."

Bakura considered this. "Mm…no." And he hung up the phone.

He was just in time to see Ryou slide down to the floor, having fallen asleep where he stood. Rolling his eyes, Bakura thought, 'Like hell I'm getting up now. Let him sleep on the floor then.'

He had just rolled over, about to go back to sleep himself, when he came up with a better idea. He picked up the phone again and threw it so that it landed inches from Ryou's face with a loud _bang!_ Ryou instantly woke up, flinching from the noise and looking at Bakura, alarmed.

"Get your own floor space," Bakura growled, then rolled over once again.

* * *

Malik hung up the phone tentatively. "He's not going to do it." 

"I could have told you that," Marik snorted. "What a waste of a phone call."

An officer watched them from the doorway of the little room. At first he had thought these two new criminals were just a couple of young drunks who had gotten more than they bargained for, but when he hauled them up to the station he found that they were none other than the notorious Ishtars. Both Marik and Malik had a handful of crimes under their belt, although considering that for a while there was no record of Marik even existing for a number of years, some of his crimes were pinned on Malik. This time they had been caught for trying to walk out of a liquor store with a six-pack in each hand without paying. Their offences were seldom serious, but they were making quite a name for themselves among the local police.

"So what do we do now?" Malik sighed. "Just live it out?"

Marik eyed the policeman at the door. "Oi, Pig," he called out to him. "How long are we looking at staying here?"

The officer glared at Marik. "Few days, minimum."

Shrugging, Marik turned to Malik. "Three days. Not that bad."

"That's the _minimum_," Malik corrected him. "It's more likely we'll be here for a week or so. And that's a week I can't afford."

"Why the hell not? It's not as if you've got a job." Marik rolled his eyes.

Malik looked at Marik sourly. "I still don't want to be in jail."

"Should've called someone better than Bakura then," Marik said with a sudden scowl.

"He was the only one I could think of that wouldn't leave us here because 'it would serve us right'," Malik groaned, brushing his fingers through his hair absentmindedly. "And I'll bet he would have come down here too if _you_ hadn't been here."

"Oh right, take his side, _Hikari._" Marik emphasised the last word as if to remind Malik whose hikari he was.

"I'm not taking anyone's side. How can I when you won't even tell me what you're fighting about in he first place?" Malik snapped.

"Nothing that concerns you," Marik growled. He turned to the officer again. "Are we done here or what?"

The officer looked at him suspiciously. It wasn't every day that prisoners requested to be taken to their cells, especially not the Ishtars. However, he couldn't exactly refuse.

The only halfway decent thing about being in the jail was that Marik and Malik were in the same cell. True, it didn't give them as much freedom as they would have liked, but it gave them both the opportunity to blame each other even more. Every possible reason for blame came into it – from whose idea to get beer it was to whose idea it was to relinquish the Millennium Rod.

"Your fault for not checking to see if there was an alarm at the store," Malik said.

To which Marik retorted, "Your fault for assuming I'd be the one to check that."

"Your fault for wanting to steal in the first place."

"Your fault for having no money."

"Your fault for being so damn obsessed with beer."

"Your fault for driving me so nuts that I need the beer to survive."

"Your fault for living with me."

"Your fault for bringing me into existence."

* * *

The next morning – or later in the morning, really – Bakura went into the kitchen, pissed off that his sleep had been interrupted earlier, to find Ryou already sitting at the table. 

"Morning, Bakura," Ryou said brightly, when his yami joined him. Seeing Bakura wasn't going to reply, he asked, "Who was it who called in the middle of the night?"

For a moment, Bakura didn't say anything. Then he growled, "Ishtar."

"Marik rang you?" Ryou exclaimed. "You haven't talked in ages! Did he call to apologise or – "

"Not _that_ one, idiot," Bakura snapped. "Malik. They got themselves arrested." Why he was bothering to tell Ryou anything anyway?

Ryou's eyes widened. "What did they do?"

"Fucked if I know."

"It'd be nice if you went down to pick them up," Ryou said, sounding for a second as though he thought Bakura would listen.

Bakura, of course, snorted. "I'd rather screw a broken bottle," he said disdainfully. "It'll take a fucking miracle to get me to help _Marik_," he added darkly.

It seemed as though the conversation was over, until Ryou couldn't help but open his mouth again. "Can't you tell me what it is you're fighting ab- "

"No."

"Not even just a – "

"_No._" Bakura's voice made it clear that he wasn't changing his mind on that topic. What he and Marik were fighting about was between them and them alone.

Ryou sighed. "Fine."

He got up and left the room. All Bakura did was scowl and mutter under his breath, "Baby." However, when Ryou returned he was holding his car keys.

"Where do you think you're going?" Bakura demanded.

"To the station," Ryou said quietly. "Seeing if I can help Malik and Marik out."

"_What?_" Bakura rose abruptly to his feet. "You're not getting them out."

Ryou looked at Bakura incredulously. "You're going to stop me?"

Bakura considered. "Yes, I am."

Ryou's lips tightened, a hard expression on his face. "Well it's not your decision, it's mine. Malik's my friend and I'm not leaving him to rot in a jail cell just because you and Marik want to tear each other apart."

He turned to leave, but gasped as Bakura grabbed him by the collar with a menacing scowl.

"I _said _you're not going."

"Bakura, what the hell!" Ryou tried to pull away, but Bakura's grip was too strong. "What do you care – let _go_ of me!"

"You're not going," Bakura repeated dangerously.

Ryou took a sharp breath, struggling against Bakura's grip and failing. "O – okay, fine! I won't – just let go!"

Bakura loosened his hold. Ryou massaged his throat, looking both indignant and relieved.

"You're insane, Bakura!" he cried weakly. "Whatever you're mad at Marik for can't be _that _bad."

Bakura just turned away and grunted in reply. He still wasn't going to tell Ryou what their fight was about.

Ryou wouldn't let the subject drop that easily though. "Marik isn't even that bad. Every time I see him he's nice to me, and considering how mad he used to be, that's saying something."

Bakura stopped in his tracks and faced Ryou again. "Nice?" he said, before shaking his head decisively. "Marik's not nice. He will _never_ be nice."

"Well, he's nice to _me_," Ryou grumbled.

"Then he's got some hidden agenda." Bakura narrowed his eyes as he said it.

"Bakura," Ryou said exasperatedly. "You're being paranoid."

"What's he done that's _nice_ to you?" Bakura demanded.

Ryou let out a frustrated groan. "I don't know, Bakura!" he exclaimed. "Friendly stuff! Said hello, asked how I was, said we should catch up some time, that sort of thing."

It sounded innocent enough. But still –

"Any physical contact?" Bakura asked.

"Bakura!" Ryou's entire face flushed. "This is ridiculous!"

"_What did he do?_" Bakura snarled.

"Nothing, you bloody psycho!" Ryou yelled, finally snapping. He didn't need Bakura's interrogation. "He's put his arm around me, he's hugged me, all right? Jesus, you make it sound like he molested me!"

Bakura took a deep breath before saying, "Give me your keys."

"What? Why?"

Without answering or waiting for another word, Bakura forcibly snatched the keys from Ryou's hand before charging out the door. Ryou protested, but he couldn't take on Bakura, and he was left alone and wondering what the hell his yami was up to.

Meanwhile, Bakura growled to himself, "Going to tear Marik a new anal hole."

* * *

It wasn't long before Marik and Malik became bored insulting each other. There were only so many times one could call someone an asshole or a bastard or an alcoholic fuckface without it getting old. Now they had resorted to deep and meaningful discussions – or as deep and meaningful discussions as two Ishtars could have. 

"Yeah, if I died, I'd want it to be alcohol-related," Marik said, nodding. "Then on my epitaph I'd get, 'Died doing what he loved'."

"Idiot. Dying of alcohol poisoning would suck," Malik scorned. "I want to die during sex. My epitaph: 'Died the way he lived'."

"Dying during sex, hmm? What's the matter, someone too rough for you?" grinned Marik.

Malik rolled his eyes. "Only if I was screwing Satan."

A guard approached their cell, glaring at them (as all those who had come to know them did). "You two have a visitor. Bakura, I think he said his name was."

Marik's face darkened. "Speaking of Satan, here's your chance."

Marik and Malik got up and moved to leave the cell, but the guard blocked their way. "One at a time," he snapped.

So Marik went first, following the guard to the tiny visitors' room. It wasn't one of those fancy ones with desks, glass separating walls and telephones on each side; all it had was a desk and two more policemen standing guard. Bakura looked none too pleased when Marik walked into the room.

"Funny, I came here asking for an Ishtar, not a piece of shit," he glowered.

"Funny, I was told there was a visitor here, not a horse fucker," Marik replied coldly.

Bakura smirked. "Don't knock it till you've tried it." One of the policemen made a choking noise, but Bakura ignored him. "I'm here to tell you to keep your fucking hands off my hikari."

Marik suddenly smirked. "Jealous?"

"Hardly," Bakura scoffed. "You know as well as I do that I don't give a shit about him. But it's a fucking stupid way to get back at me."

"I thought it was quite fitting," Marik said.

"You go near him again and you won't be in prison, you'll be in the morgue."

Marik narrowed his eyes. "I think I have more of a right to be pissed off than you. You brought this on yourself."

"He's _my_ hikari," Bakura snapped. "He's fucking off limits."

Marik leaned forward, right up close to Bakura so that their faces were inches apart. "I should say the same about _Malik_," he hissed.

Bakura didn't have any reaction. He just stared right back as Marik tried to glare him down. Finally Marik backed away again, looking as though Bakura was the scum of the earth.

"Did you forget that's what this is about already? You're threatening me not to touch your hikari when you're doing the same fucking thing to mine," he accused.

"That's different." Bakura folded his arms. "You don't give a shit about Ryou any more than I do."

"Like you care about Malik!" Marik spat. "You wouldn't even fucking spring him out of jail! I'm going to make you pay for taking what's mine and using it, bastard."

Bakura pretended to think. "You know, you're right. I _don't_ care about Malik." He stood up and started towards the door. "In which case, what am I doing here? Because I sure wasn't planning on saving your ass."

"No, it's Malik's ass you wanted to save," Marik called bitterly. "Or anyone else's you think you can fuck and get away with it."

* * *

By the way, I had no idea what genre to call this. But plenty of the later stuff is humour, so that was in. Plus there's sex. I figured sex equals romance. 

One question: Does a writer writing, "Please review" at the end of a chapter _really_ make you want to review more?


	2. Chapter 2

The Bright Young Things

Damn, nice response to chapter one! I was rather surprised to receive reviews from a couple of people (a couple of Overlords, to be precise XD), but who's complaining?

Onward with chapter two! I call it, "I'm Too lazy to Think of Chapter Names".

* * *

Malik was more than slightly pissed off when Marik returned to the cell saying that Bakura had stormed out without busting them out of prison.

"Only you could screw it up for us," he groaned when Marik told him.

But Marik didn't care so much that he was still in jail, because at least it kept Bakura away from Malik. It wasn't as if he cared about Malik getting hurt or anything like that. It was a matter of principle; Malik was _his_ hikari, so for Bakura it was hands off. What did the bastard see in Malik anyway? Malik was just a pussy version of Marik. Sure, that meant he was hot, but who liked a wimp? Just the same as Ryou was the wimp version of Bakura. And Marik _didn't _have any attraction to Ryou – if anything, before Malik had become involved, he had liked Bakura. Boy was that short-lived.

"So what the hell are we supposed to do now?" Malik demanded. "Nobody else knows we're fucking in jail!"

Marik snorted. "Trust me, we are _not_ fucking in jail."

"Only you would take it that way," Malik muttered.

Marik paced around the cell for a while, before collapsing on his bed. "Fuck, this is boring." He turned his head, yelling, "Can we get some music in here or something?"

"Shut up!" the guard on duty shouted back.

"Make me!" Marik called.

"Fuck you!"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" That was the last thing Marik managed to get out before Malik threw a shoe at him to silence him.

Soon after it was time for showers. This was Marik's least favourite time of day, not because he had any aversion to being naked in front of a large group of people, but because there were some people in jail who should just never have been allowed to take off their clothes. _Especially_ not pressed up against others.

Whether on purpose or not, Marik always managed to be separated from Malik in the shower block. Some of the seedier guys in their made passes at Marik, and even though _he_ had no problem giving those assholes what they deserved, he wondered how Malik dealt with it. But wait…he had once heard that the last man who tried to take on Malik hadn't come out of it all male. With a grim smile, he took a guess as to how many prisoners would wind up singing in falsetto after messing with his hikari.

Marik stripped down, along with everyone else. 'This place wouldn't be so bad if I wasn't the only hot one here,' he thought.

The showers were small, cramped and disgusting. A guard patrolled the block, supposedly to stop any 'inappropriate conduct', but secretly wanting a piece of the action, which meant nothing was off-limits. Almost straight away when Marik got in there he was accosted.

A man grabbed him roughly on the shoulder. "You're that Ishtar kid, yeah?" he leered.

"What's it to you?" Marik asked, shoving the guy's hand away.

"I've seen you around. You've got spirit," the guy grinned. "I like that. Fancy a go with me?"

Marik gave him an unnecessary once-over before replying, "Sorry, I don't go for anyone who bears resemblance to the shit I ate for dinner last night."

"Oh, harsh." The guy put his hand on Marik's shoulder again, and again Marik hit it away. "Come on, you won't regret it – "

"No," Marik growled. "Put those fingers on me again and I'll break them."

"Aww, you don't mean that – "

_CRACK!_

The man howled in pain, grasping his right hand and shooting Marik a horrified look before running off.

Marik shook his head. "Why don't people believe what you tell them any more?"

* * *

"So they're going to be in there _how_ long, exactly?" sighed Ryou when Bakura arrived home. The expression on his face when he walked in was enough to tell Ryou that the Ishtars weren't going anywhere. 

"Not long enough to care," answered Bakura, walking straight past Ryou to his bedroom. To his irritation, Ryou followed him.

"What, you just went to the station to yell at Marik?"

"Yep." Bakura sped up a bit, but Ryou persistently kept up.

"And you don't feel any guilt or remorse whatsoever about not helping them?" he asked.

Bakura turned to him and glared. "_No_. Now if you don't shut up I'll make _you_ feel a bit of remorse."

Ryou took a deep breath. "Are you and Marik a couple?"

Bakura stiffened. "_What_ was that?" he asked in a dangerous voice.

"Are you?" Ryou dared to ask again. Bakura seemed to tower over him, and it was a wonder he didn't run away.

"And where the fuck would you get an idea like that?"

"Well, you two used to do everything together," Ryou reasoned. "And then you started fighting and you both refuse to tell anyone why…it's a natural assumption."

"It's a shit assumption," Bakura growled. "There is no conceivable scenario that would get me fucking Marik. You're an idiot, Hikari."

He stormed away into his room, slamming and locking the door behind him. Ryou, indignant about being insulted, grabbed the door handle and attempted to get in, but of course he couldn't.

"Just tell me what you're fighting about, then!" he yelled. He heard Bakura promptly turn on his stereo.

With a slight scowl, Ryou quit and went to his own room. He hadn't really expected Bakura to tell him anything, but he never knew what to expect from his yami. That was the only reason Ryou didn't go and bail Malik and Marik out himself: there was no way of knowing what Bakura's reaction would be. It all depended on whether he was in a good or bad mood.

Once in his room, Ryou flopped onto his bed. But he wasn't there for long before restlessly standing up again. Maybe it was guilt about not helping the Ishtars, but he couldn't sit still. He wanted to help them, but how was he supposed to do that without Bakura finding out?

A possible idea arising, he went back to Bakura's room, where the door was still shut and the music was still loud. Trying to make himself heard, Ryou kicked the door several times until Bakura swung it open, looking very pissed off.

"What the hell do you want now?" he snapped.

"I need the phone," Ryou said boldly.

Bakura must have been in a bad mood, because he shut the door in Ryou's face for the second time. A few seconds later, the music was turned up even more.

Ryou groaned in frustration. He didn't expect Bakura to just hand over the phone, but for his idea to work, he needed it. And although he didn't like the thought, it seemed the only way he would get it from Bakura's room was to break in there.

Pick the lock, grab the phone, run like hell. Simple enough, if it worked, but last time Ryou did it, Bakura had kicked him out of the room – literally.

Sighing, knowing he would have to resort to it, Ryou grabbed a coat hanger from his cupboard. He applied a couple of techniques to the lock on the door that Bakura had taught him on a _good_ day. He reshaped the wire so that it fitted into the lock and jiggled it around until something clicked. Sure, it was an amateur method, but it worked.

He peered inside, and luckily Bakura was lying on his bed, facing the other direction. Hoping to avoid being seen, Ryou sneaked in.

The phone was still on the floor where Bakura had thrown it at Ryou that night, so luckily he didn't have to go far to retrieve it. He bent down, about to pick it up, when –

"_OUT!"_

Ryou jumped; Bakura seemed to have moved from his position on the bed to just in front of Ryou silently and in seconds. For a split second Ryou cursed the fact that he had a thief for a yami.

He froze, uncertain of what Bakura was going to do.

"You picked my lock," Bakura said shortly. He picked the phone up off the floor. "Don't do that again."

Tentatively, because he had no way of knowing how Bakura would react, Ryou held his hand out. "I just want the phone," he said calmly, hoping like hell that Bakura wouldn't do anything drastic.

"As long as it's in my room," Bakura growled, "it's my phone. Get out."

"You're not even using it," Ryou reasoned.

"That's right, I'm not. Out."

"You're only keeping it because you don't want _me_ to use it."

"Yep." Bakura leaned in close to Ryou. "_Out._"

Ryou wasn't the best negotiator, especially not against Bakura. He didn't see any option besides admitting defeat and walking away.

Still, he wasn't entirely giving up. Even though he felt completely stupid, he found himself on his neighbour's doorstep, knocking on the door.

A girl, only about ten, answered it. She surveyed Ryou with curiosity, especially his hair.

"Er - hi," Ryou said awkwardly. "Are your parents home?"

The girl shook her head. "Just me. Who're you?"

"I'm your neighbour," Ryou replied. "Well, do you think I could possibly come in for a second and use your – "

"My neighbour? You live in that house?" The girl pointed. Ryou, slightly bewildered, nodded. "So you're the one that plays devil music and swears a lot!"

Ryou took a step back and laughed. "Me? Sorry, that's my – distant relative who lives with me," he lied. Then he added, "Devil music?"

The little girl shrugged. "It's what my mum calls it. Maybe you should warn your relative: Mum also says he'll go to Hell for listening to it and talking the way he does."

Ryou resisted the urge to snort and shook his head. "Somehow I don't think he'll listen."

Again, the girl shrugged her shoulders. "So…you want something?"

"Right," Ryou said, his voice instantly turning polite. "Well, my _relative_ isn't letting me use the phone. Do you think I could possibly come in for a second and use yours?"

The girl seemed to consider this, but when she next spoke she just said, "Your relative sounds like a bully."

"Oh, he is," Ryou smiled. Again the girl considered for a moment, before running back inside. When she came out again, she was holding a phone.

"Thanks," Ryou said gratefully, and he dialled a number that he thankfully knew from memory. The girl watched him as he spoke into the phone.

"Hello? It's Ryou…yeah, it has been a while. Listen, I kind of had a favour to ask you. It would involve you going a bit out of your way, but – really? Thanks. Okay, what I'm asking for is…"

* * *

Spending one day in jail wouldn't kill most people, but it was boring the shit out of Malik. Marik, it seemed, had found a way to entertain himself. From somewhere, or someone, he had managed to acquire a pencil and paper. 

"Look at this one," he grinned, passing a piece to Malik. Malik looked at it and saw a surprisingly good caricature of one of the prison guards in a noose.

Malik frowned, handing it back. "When did you have time to learn to draw?"

"Two hours ago," Marik smirked. Malik rolled his eyes.

"Freak," he muttered.

"Jealous." Marik went back to drawing. Malik watched him for a while, before looking at his latest picture. This time it was Bakura in a noose.

"Marik!" Malik punched him in the arm.

"What?"

"You bloody know what! You're obsessed, you know that? Why are you so hell-bent on killing Bakura?"

Marik's eyes narrowed. "I have my reasons."

"Well you'd better damn well share them," Malik said angrily. "Because Bakura and I happen to be close, so unless you've got an excellent reason, I'm not going to just sit here while you insult him."

"Shut up and stop being so noble. He doesn't give a shit about you," Marik said bitterly.

Malik stopped for a moment, but then said, "You don't have a fucking clue what he thinks. Don't bring me and him into this."

Marik snorted. 'If only you knew, Hikari,' he thought.

"If I didn't know better, Marik, I'd say you were jealous."

There was a moment's silence. Then Marik said through gritted teeth, "Then it's a very good thing you _do_ know better, or else I would have to kill you."

"Who are you jealous of?" Malik asked stiffly, ignoring Marik's comment. "Him or me?"

"Neither of you," Marik snapped.

"That's what this is about, isn't it? You're fighting because you're jealous of him since we're together!"

Marik stood up and glared at Malik, instantly silencing him. "You think _far_ too much of yourself, Hikari," he snarled. "Like I said, I have my reasons, but _you_ are not one of them."

Malik was about to make an angry reply, but he was cut off by another voice, one that came from outside the cell.

"Well, isn't this a wonderful display of the love between a yami and hikari?"

Malik and Marik turned and faced whoever it was who had intruded, and both of them looked stunned.

"_Pharaoh?_"

* * *

OO That chapter was exactly 2200 words. Awesome.

Reviews are most definitely appreciated XD


	3. Chapter 3

The Bright Young Things

Hey, I love some of the reviews I'm getting for this. Some of them are so damn funny, I salute you people.

I don't know _where _I pulled a lot of this chapter from. Ah well, hopefully you'll enjoy it anyway. Read on!

* * *

"How the fuck did you get in here?" Marik demanded.

Yami folded his arms. "Now, is that any way to greet an old friend?"

"Friend my ass," snapped Malik. "How'd you know we were here?"

"Unbelievable. Here I am, going out of my way to do you a favour, and all I get is suspicion." Yami shook his head in mock disbelief. Malik raised his eyebrows.

"You're busting us out?"

"Caught on?" Yami smirked. "Yes, I'm helping you, out of the goodness of my – "

"Who put you up to it?" Marik interrupted. He wasn't stupid; it was easy to see that someone had offered Yami something if he helped them out of jail. Though who, Marik had no idea.

Yami ignored him. "Hurry up and get out."

When neither Ishtar moved, both giving him blank stares, he gestured at the cell door.

"What are you waiting for?" he asked.

"Well, almighty genius, we're locked in." Marik rolled his eyes.

"Oh?" Yami smiled tauntingly. "Funny, _Bakura_ can unlock almost anything without using the key. I would have thought that if anyone was _jealous_ enough to try to outdo him, it would be you, Marik."

Marik just growled in response. Yami sighed.

"Fine." He reached into his pocket and pulled something out. He threw that something into the cell, and Malik caught it. He gaped.

"Yami, you nicked the keys? _How? _Where were all the guards?" Malik looked around. "And where's the guard that's supposed to be on duty now?"

Marik snatched the keys out of his hands and straight away worked on finding one that would unlock their cell.

"Let's just say that not all of us were as stupid as you two," Yami said casually, answering Malik's question. He tapped his finger on the puzzle around his neck. "Not all of us gave away our Millennium Items."

"They're pushing up daisies?" Marik asked, trying to fit key after key into the lock. "Well, well, the Pharaoh isn't as good and virtuous as everyone thinks."

The lock clicked and the door swung open, but just before Marik walked out, he turned around and grabbed his sketches off the ground. When Yami looked at him in disdain, he shrugged.

"What? They're very important documents," he reasoned.

Yami snatched one of the pieces of paper.

"Most of them are just pictures of Bakura getting killed," Malik said, with a hint of bitterness in his voice.

Yami looked at them all anyway. "Is that a guillotine, chopping off his – "

"Realistic, aren't they?" asked Marik, grinning sadistically.

They didn't use any subtlety when walking out of the building; they just went straight down the hallway of prisoners towards the front doors. But this didn't go down well with the other prisoners.

"Hey, Spikey," one called out to Yami. "How about sharing the favour? The rest of us want to get out of here as well."

When Marik went past the guy's cell, he scribbled something on one of his papers. "Here," he said, holding it out. The guy took it and looked bewildered – it was blank except for the words 'Marik Ishtar'. "Now whenever you're feeling pissed off about your life sentence, you can remember me: the guy who walked out of here."

Leaving the prisoner to stew in his anger, Marik followed Malik and Yami out.

* * *

Bakura had turned off his music as soon as he was certain Ryou wouldn't be bothering him again. But just his luck, this meant he was fully able to hear a car screech loudly to a halt right outside.

"What the fuck?" He stormed out to the front of the house. Parked there – badly – was possibly the most souped-up convertible he had ever seen, with three people inside, none of whom he wanted to see at the moment, with Ryou standing nearby.

Rather than greeting Malik, Marik or Yami in any way, Bakura turned around and walked right back inside.

"Bakura!" he heard Ryou yell. "Hold on. I'm sorry, I'll get him."

As Bakura internally groaned, Marik growled, "No, let the bastard stay there."

For once, he thought, Marik had done something right. But Ryou, being the stubborn hikari he was, ignored Marik and marched through the front door, looking furious.

"Honestly, show a bit of courtesy! I get that you're anti-Marik, but you could at least say hello to Yami."

Bakura laughed at that. "Oh yes, because Yami and I are the _best_ of friends."

Ryou ignored him. "And what about Malik? Pardon me if I'm wrong, but I expect he's feeling a bit crushed that his _boyfriend_ didn't come out to meet him after he's been in jail!"

Bakura stared at Ryou contemptuously. "He was in there for one day," he said. "Besides, I don't really give a shit what he thinks."

"Shall I tell him that?"

"Do what you want. I don't care," Bakura said, shrugging. Then he looked at Ryou suspiciously. "If you knew I was with Malik, why did you ask earlier if Marik and I were a couple?"

Ryou hesitated. He seemed to have drawn a blank. "I – I guess I forgot about Malik then," he admitted.

Bakura smirked. "Shall I tell _him_ that?" he mimicked.

"You're an asshole," Ryou scowled. "I don't know why he would like you."

"It's because I'm hot." Bakura was about to leave the room, snubbing Ryou completely, when he suddenly had an idea. "Actually, you know, Ryou, you're right. I think I'll come out and say hello to Malik after all."

Ryou was confused by his sudden change of mind – and, naturally, slightly suspicious – but he shrugged it off as Bakura being in a good mood.

They both went back outside, where Yami, Malik and Marik had all gotten out of the car and were making themselves comfortable on the lawn. All of them assumed that Ryou had somehow managed to drag Bakura back out there.

Bakura gave a stiff nod in Yami's direction, and he completely ignored Marik. When he reached Malik, he thought, 'Showtime.'

"Hey," he said, throwing an arm around Malik's waist and drawing him in for a kiss. Once it broke, Bakura glanced towards Marik. The kiss had the desired effect – Marik looked furious.

Malik just looked confused. "Hi, Bakura," he returned. "Er – sorry about the whole calling you at three in the morning thing."

"Doesn't matter," Bakura said, shrugging.

"So you're not still mad?" Malik asked, surprised.

"Nah. I wasn't really mad in the first place."

"Oh really?" Ryou raised his eyebrows. "Not even when you refused to bail him out of jail? Or when you said that since he called you at three in the morning he was nothing but an assho-"

"Hikari, I suggest you don't finish that," Bakura growled. He still had his arm around Malik, much to Marik's anger.

"Ryou," Marik said, seething, "would you mind at all if I go inside for a second? Breaking out of jail's made me _thirsty_."

Ryou looked tentatively between Marik and Bakura, before evidently deciding that it would be wise to separate them as much as possible. "Sure, Marik, go on – "

"Excuse me?" Bakura snapped. "It's my house as well, and I say _no fucking way._"

Without facing Bakura, barely acknowledging to whom his next words were directed, Marik ground out, "I believe I was talking to _Ryou_." And, ignoring Bakura's angry snarl, he stormed past everyone to the house.

Bakura, enraged at having his orders ignored, followed him, which left Malik, Ryou and Yami. Knowing it was a bad idea to leave Marik and Bakura alone together, but preferring not to get involved, Malik and Ryou nominated Yami to go inside too.

Bakura found Marik in the kitchen.

"All right, what are you pulling?" he demanded. "Why did you ask to come inside?"

Marik threw Bakura a condescending look. "Well, partially because I couldn't stand _you_ being there, but mainly – " He opened the fridge, " – because I was thirsty. Unlike you, I don't feel the need to lie to everyone all the time."

"You don't lie because you're shit at it." Bakura glared.

Marik snorted. "Yeah, and you're just brilliant. All that crap you were telling Malik back there…I'm amazed _he_ didn't realise you were full of shit."

"And what if he had? Would you sweep him off his feet when he's heartbroken like the valiant knight in shining armour you are?"

"Bakura, I swear, if you don't shut up – "

"You'll do what? Hit on Ryou again?" Bakura sneered. "Doesn't really work when he doesn't like you. The reason you hate me being with Malik is that he likes me as well."

Marik was gripping his drink so tightly that it risked breaking. "Give me one day and trust me, I can make Ryou like me," he said confidently. "Then we'll see if it _works_."

"That sounds almost like a challenge, Ishtar." Bakura folded his arms across his chest.

Marik paused. "That sounds almost like you're interested."

Bakura had always been competitive; just the thought of any sort of challenge or competition sparked his interest. "You serious?" he asked.

"Want to make a bet, then?" Marik's eyes began to glitter with malice. Bakura wasn't the only one who liked a little 'friendly' competition. "A bet on what I said before. I get a day to make Ryou like me. Deal?"

Bakura considered. While he thought, however, someone besides Marik spoke behind him: Yami.

"Don't tell me you're going to actually do that," Yami said incredulously.

"Fucking hell, Pharaoh, how long have you been there?" demanded Marik.

Smiling slightly, Yami replied, "Long enough to confirm exactly why you two hate each other. Hikari problems?"

"None that concern you," Bakura snapped. "Get your royal ass back outside."

Yami, predictably, didn't move. "Bakura, you're not actually going to use Ryou for some stupid bet, are you?"

Bakura shrugged. "Why the fuck not?" Did Yami think that Bakura had the same sort of close relationship with Ryou as Yami had with _his_ hikari? He could keep dreaming.

"Come on, Bakura. Are you in or out?" Marik asked.

"If you agree to do this, I'll tell Ryou," Yami threatened. "That'll ruin the whole bet."

There was no way someone could threaten Bakura and walk away completely intact. He grabbed Yami by the shoulders and slammed him against the wall.

"Ishtar, I agree to the bet," Bakura said loudly. Then, glaring at Yami, he added, "If you say a word, I'll rip your fucking balls off, understand?"

Yami looked ready to kill Bakura, and he probably would have if his position had been better. "Marik, you'd better win this stupid thing," he spat.

Bakura let him go. "I say we lay down some rules," he said. "And since the Pharaoh here loves sticking his nose in our business so much, he can be the one who enforces those rules."

If Yami had any objections to having this role, he kept them to himself.

"Fine," Marik said shortly. "First rule: I get a full twenty-four hours."

That was simple enough, Bakura thought. "You only win if Ryou tells you that he likes you, or does something that _extremely _obviously points to it. The Pharaoh can judge that."

Marik frowned, but agreed anyway. "What do we get if we win?"

"Glad you asked." Bakura smirked. "When _I_ win, you're going to turn yourself in to the cops."

"_What?_" both Marik and Yami exclaimed.

"Too much to risk?" Bakura taunted.

Marik growled. "Of course not. Fine. But if I win – "

"Let me guess, I have to break up with Malik?" Bakura rolled his eyes. "How predictable. And I suppose I have to do it in a way that doesn't link to you, so that you don't get the blame and he comes sobbing to you for comfort."

Marik glared at him. "Close enough. _And_," he said coldly, "on top of that, you have to go without sex. For three months."

That one was harsh, but Bakura knew there was no way Marik would win.

"All right, Ishtar. But one more rule: in the twenty-four hours, I'm free to do whatever I want with Malik, and you can't do anything to stop me."

Judging by the murderous look that was on Marik's face – coincidentally, the same one that was present every time he saw Bakura and Malik together – this rule would push Marik to his limits. And that was exactly what Bakura wanted.

"Agreed," Marik said finally.

"Anything you want to add, Rule Enforcer?" inquired Bakura, turning back to Yami, who had his arms crossed angrily.

"You two are fucking idiots."

"Right, anything else?"

"No, I think 'you two are fucking idiots' covers it."

Bakura smirked again. "Shall we start the wager soon, then? Say, in an hour?"

"Works for me," said Marik. "Prepare to become well-acquainted with your hand over the next three months, Bakura."

"I hope they give you a nice prison cell this time," Bakura said with a twisted smile.

"How's the Pharaoh meant to keep an eye on us both to make sure we're following the rules? He can't be in two places at once."

Bakura snorted. "That little asshole can go in and out of rooms so fast you don't even notice. He almost _can_ be in two places at once."

Sure enough, until that moment neither of them had realised that Yami had left the room.

There was a long silence in which Marik and Bakura thought about their plans for the bet. Bakura wasn't even going to stop Marik going after Ryou; he knew Ryou would never want Marik, no matter what he did. Instead he was going to use the rule about doing whatever he wanted with Malik to his advantage. He planned to make Marik crack and lose by default.

The silence was only broken when, from the doorway, Malik and Ryou appeared, looking extremely apprehensive.

Ryou looked between Marik and Bakura. "We couldn't hear anything, and none of you came outside again, so we thought we should make sure you hadn't killed each other."

"Where's Yami?" Malik asked sharply.

Bakura grinned at him. "The Pharaoh is unfortunately alive and well. He's just buggered off somewhere."

"Should I ask why you two can suddenly stand to be in the same room as each other?" Ryou said with a small, knowing smile that Bakura hated.

"No," both yamis replied unhesitatingly.

Then Marik shot Bakura an evil grin.

"Ryou," he began. "Do you reckon Malik and I can stay the night, just until any heat with the cops has died down?"

"Er…I guess so," Ryou answered, shrugging. "And if you see him, tell Yami he can too."

Marik looked cocky. That is, until Bakura said, "That'll be cramped. Unless you're right sleeping in my bed with me, Malik."

Marik's look turned bitter, and now Bakura was the cocky one.

Both of them were thinking the same thing: the competition was on.

* * *

If you've read this far, you must have been entertained. Now entertain ME by leaving me a review! 


	4. Chapter 4

The Bright Young Things

Hey, I s'pose I should put a warning of sorts. Lemon in this chapter - though it's not much of a lemon. I didn't want to put much emphasis on the fact they were screwing, because it's nothing special. So it's purposely written vaguely and all that...blah blah blah...that's my explanation. I'm tired of typing now.

Enjoy!

* * *

Marik paced around the kitchen long after everyone else had left. He knew he had gotten the short end of the deal, but he also knew that if anyone could beat Bakura at his own game, it would be him.

He needed a good solid plan first. Bakura had said that Marik's previous advances on Ryou 'weren't working', but could Marik trust that? Bakura lied, it was just what he did, so no leads there.

It was pretty easy to choose whether to have a subtle or unsubtle approach; Ryou would be unlikely to appreciate Marik just marching over and planting one on his lips. What a conversation _that_ would be…

'_Marik! What are you doing?'_

'_Nothing really. Just kissing you to make you like me so that I win a bet with Bakura.'_

'_Oh, fair enough.'_

Yeah. That would happen.

No, Marik knew he needed to be subtle – which sucked, because he hated subtle. Pretty much every other time he had been laid it had been a, "I'm hot, you're hot, let's go," situation. But he'd have to win Ryou over instead of just take him to bed. He struggled to remember all the romantic drabble that characters in sappy chick flicks spurted.

None of that helped. "Screw this," he said aloud. "I'll fucking do it my own way."

"Do whatever you want, just stop talking to yourself."

Marik jumped and whirled around. "For fuck's sake, Yami, stop doing that!"

"I can't help it if none of you notice when I'm standing right behind you." Yami made a vague attempt to look innocent.

"Yes you can," Marik said flatly. "When you enter a room you should do it naked while singing, 'I'm a little Pharaoh, I've got class. Bend me over and do me up the ass'."

Yami looked at him in disbelief. "You just came up with that then, didn't you?"

"Good, wasn't it?" Marik smirked. "Now what do you want?"

"To tell you to get moving. Bakura's already started on his plan," Yami informed him.

Marik was stunned. "He has a plan already?" When Yami nodded curtly, he demanded, "What is it?"

"Well, that wouldn't be very fair, would it?" said Yami.

"Fuck fair. You want me to win, tell me!"

Yami obstinately shook his head. Marik cursed him for being so insistent on doing the right thing all the time.

"What's your plan?" Yami asked.

Marik shrugged. "Dunno. Seduce Ryou. Easy shit."

"You call that a plan?" Yami scorned. "One would think you _wanted_ to go back to jail."

"Fuck's sake, why do you care?" Marik was getting irritated now. he supposed he knew the answer, really: that Yami and Bakura were still as much enemies as they ever were, so Yami wanted to see Bakura lose at something.

So Marik wasn't too annoyed when Yami didn't bother answering.

"I should ask why _you_ care so much about Bakura and Malik being together," Yami said, looking Marik in the eye and trying to stare him down.

Marik's eyes flashed. "My business, not yours."

"I hope you know it all but screams jealousy."

"I'm not jealous," Marik growled. "It's a matter of principle."

"Oh, of course. _Principle,_" Yami said mockingly. "And what _principle_ would that be?"

"The principle that one yami can't fuck with another's hikari!" Marik exclaimed loudly, losing his temper.

Yami raised his eyebrows. "So does that mean if I were in Bakura's shoes, you'd have waged war on _me?_"

Marik did answer, but so quietly that Yami barely heard. And what he did hear was vague, as if Marik was saying it to himself.

"As if _my_ hikari would think that about someone like you." Before Yami knew what to make of that, Marik said louder, "Besides, I heard you had your own hikari to fuck."

Yami flushed. "Mind your own business," he said quickly.

Marik snorted derisively. "Hypocrite."

"Bastard."

Silently, Marik began pacing around in thought again. He sat down, but just as abruptly stood up again. Yami watched him intently.

Finally Marik stopped his erratic movement and grinned.

"Have you got a screw loose?" Yami frowned. "Why are you smiling?"

Marik crossed his arms. "You'll see," he said confidently. "I know just the way to win this…and get under Bakura's skin along the way."

Leaving Yami to wonder just what his perfect plan was, Marik left the kitchen in search of Ryou and Bakura. Looking at the clock, he saw that only three quarters of an hour had passed since the bet began.

He smiled to himself at the ingeniousness of his plan. Seducing Ryou would guarantee he beat Bakura, but in order to really rub in the victory, in order to _really_ make Bakura crack…Ryou wasn't the only one who would be seduced.

* * *

Bakura was moving quickly from room to room. in hindsight it looked as though he was looking for something that wasn't there, and he supposed he was, but not an item. 

He was looking for a room that would suit is plan. He needed one that no one would enter, but into which everyone would see – more specifically, into which Marik would see.

Bakura knew that if he pushed Marik's buttons enough, Marik would retaliate and lose the bet. Marik hated the fact that Bakura was with Malik more than anything (why, he couldn't say, but didn't particularly care), so Bakura concluded that if Marik caught him in several 'positions' with Malik, he'd be beyond pissed off.

Bakura pictured the situation: Marik would walk by, feeling cocky as usual, and he would just happen to glance into a room. He'd see something that makes his blood boil. He'd see, in short, Bakura and Malik making out. That would be almost enough to make him go in there and try to beat the shit out of Bakura, but he'd remember the rules of the bet and restrain himself. He'd move on.

Then later on, after getting nowhere with Ryou, Marik would walk past the room again. He'd try not to look, but he wouldn't be able to help himself. Sure enough, again he'd see Bakura and Malik. It would take all his mental strength, but eventually he'd move on again.

But he wouldn't be so lucky the third time. Then it would be bye-bye bet.

So really, all Bakura needed was the perfect room, and victory was his.

Ah, _this_ room would be perfect: right next to the bathroom. Bakura never took much notice of the rooms in the house besides his own bedroom, but he seemed to recall Ryou saying it was his father's room when he stayed. Well, Bakura doubted anyone would begrudge him for using it for one night.

Bakura went back down the hall to the lounge room, where he found Malik lying on the couch eating an orange. He raised his eyebrows as Malik continued to eat, barely acknowledging his presence. But eventually the silence between them became awkward.

"What?" Malik said. Bakura just shook his head and watched him. "No, really, _what?_" he repeated suspiciously.

Bakura decided that the best way to handle this was to come up with the most fitting pick-up line that would get Malik into bed with him right away. "Need some help there?" he asked with a smirk.

"Help with what?"

"Sucking the orange."

Malik looked at his orange, then back at Bakura, bewildered.

Bakura rolled his eyes; Malik didn't get it. "_Sucking the orange. _Beating the meat."

Nothing. He was still clueless. Bakura looked contemptuous as he tried to think of more euphemisms.

"Fucking hell – jacking the hammer? Controlling the puppet? Solo flying?"

Finally – _finally_ – Malik's eyes widened in understanding. Then he groaned. "Sweet Jesus, Bakura, you've only got one thing on your mind, and you've turned eating an orange into something perverted. 'Sucking the orange'? What the hell is that? Honestly!"

Letting go of his disdain for the moment, Bakura grinned. "I've got a talent for perverted statements."

"No kidding." Malik put down his orange. Bakura guessed he'd lost his appetite somewhat.

Bakura bent down so that his face was inches away from Malik's. "Just one of the things you love about me," he muttered, his breath hot against Malik's cheek, causing the blonde to flush slightly.

"Yeah, along with your damn arrogance."

Bakura kissed him, not very hard, but hard enough to get his point across. "Come with me. I've got to – _talk _- to you in private."

This time, Malik got the point straight away. "Bloody hell, you've got a one-track mind."

True enough, but this time his one-track mind was focused on the bet.

Bakura grabbed Malik's arm and forcibly pulled him along, though Malik wasn't putting up a fight. When they entered the empty bedroom, he needed little persuasion to take off his shirt, and Bakura shoved him down on the bed.

Bakura had no way of knowing when Marik would walk past, therefore he would have to draw this out for as long as he could. Malik wouldn't be happy with that, but it was for a good cause.

Ah well, he might as well have fun with this.

He slowly moved so that his legs were on either side of Malik's hips. His fingers traced along Malik's defined stomach muscles, and Malik shivered at the sensation.

"Shit, Bakura, that tickles," he murmured, with a slight smile.

Bakura almost told him to shut up; he had to keep his ears open for when Marik approached. He kissed Malik again, just to keep his mouth busy.

Though things grew heavy, doing things slowly wasn't Bakura's style, and although he was hardly predictable, Malik knew something wasn't right.

"Bakura – _fuck_ – what's wrong?" he gasped. "What the fuck are you waiting for?"

Cursing under his breath, because there had been no sign at all of Marik, Bakura brusquely unzipped his pants, but didn't take them off fully. To hell with waiting any longer – Bakura was well and truly ready for a fuck now, whether Marik walked past or not. Besides, he couldn't let Malik get suspicious.

Another brief tangle, and Malik was left naked, and from that point Bakura went back to normal. No more fooling around. He took next to no time preparing Malik before roughly pushing himself into him.

As luck would have it, they had only been at it for a few minutes when Bakura heard the sound of footsteps coming from the hallway. A bit behind schedule, he thought, but Marik was going to fall into the trap.

The footsteps came closer, so Bakura settled for some theatrics.

"Oh…_Malik_…" he groaned loudly. It was obvious, at least to him, that he was faking, but Marik wouldn't know.

The steps were coming right up to the door – just another second before –

"BAKURA!"

Bakura froze – in a position that made Malik cry out in exclamation. That wasn't the voice he wanted to hear.

"Ryou!" he snarled angrily. "What the fuck? Can't two guys get a bit of privacy?"

Ryou was white with shock, but not speechless. "Privacy? _Privacy?_ You two are – in my _father's _room – door open – bloody hell!"

"Shit – sorry, Ryou," Malik gasped. It was a wonder he managed to say anything at all.

Ryou turned away. "I'm not staying here to see my yami and my friend naked and screwing!"

Just then, Marik walked up to the doorway, naked in all his glory.

Bakura's eyes widened.

"_What the hell is going on here?"_ Ryou screeched. He ran past Marik, leaving just the other three in the room, Bakura on top of Malik, with Marik standing in the doorway.

It was exactly as Bakura had planned. And it was a disaster.

Why the fuck was Marik naked? Was this his way of showing off for Ryou, or did he make a habit of parading through other people's houses like this? Neither would have surprised Bakura.

Well, if he was trying to attract Ryou, he had obviously failed. Ryou hadn't been at all impressed by his muscular, tanned figure, and _definitely _not by his astounding size. And _fucking definitely_ not by the way his body so incredibly matched Malik's, only paired with a personality much more dark, more evil, more hot…

_What the fuck was he thinking?_

"Marik, get out!" gasped Malik. "Bakura – do _something,_ I don't care what!"

Malik's voice shocked Bakura back to reality; he had been completely frozen, just staring at Marik like an idiot.

"You heard him, Ishtar," he snapped at last. "Get out! And put some clothes on!"

For once in his life, Marik did what Bakura wanted. But as he walked away from the room, he called back, "Hypocrite!"

Now Bakura was thoroughly distracted again, to Malik's obvious dismay. All he could concentrate on was the disgusting picture of Marik that was now burned into his brain. When he came, he felt barely more satisfied than before. In fact, he felt more irritable.

The only consolation was that, despite going slightly astray, his plan had worked. Marik had walked in on him and Malik. Granted, there had been one more naked person than he predicted, but Marik had still been furious.

Hadn't he?

As Bakura pulled up his jeans again, not bothering to wait around, he shook his head decisively. His plan _must_ have worked.

* * *

Everybody just smile, nod, and agree with Bakura on that one. Yep. It worked like a charm.

WALLS!

_Humpy Humpy fucked on a wall_

_Humpy Humpy semed them all_

_All the wall's corners and all the wall's ends_

_Couldn't make Humpy the bottom again._

I JUST WROTE IT! IT'S A MASTERPIECE! PLEASE REVIEW MY POEM!OH, MAYBE THE FANFIC TOO.


	5. Chapter 5

See, I told everyone I'd update sooner or later! It only took - erm - three years!

* * *

Perhaps explosive overconfidence was a normal trait for a yami - if, indeed, anything about a yami could be considered normal - because Bakura had certainly looked like he knew what he was doing. Even in the split second before he realised Marik was naked, a smug smirk had been firmly plastered on his face. But Marik had wiped it off, preferably permanently.

The way Bakura's face slackened with uncomprehending shock...

The way he froze in position, compromising as it was...

The way he forgot about anything, even what he was doing to _my hikari_ no _Malik_ no _MY hikari, damnit!_

Regardless of his yami-esque confidence, Marik's mind was still a blaze of white-hot fury. He had seen sex before; he put the Kama Sutra to shame. In his comparitively short life he had done more crazy, kinky shit with more crazy, kinky people than most porn stars would in an entire career, and he was proud. He liked sex. And during that time when the darkness created him, it hadn't spared a spot in his psyche for respecting people's conservative behaviour. If he wanted to holler, unprovoked, _"The tits are fake!"_ to a young man gawking at his plasticised female companion, then damn it, he would, no matter how many school kids were in the area.

But in Ryou's father's room, seeing Bakura _that fucking bastard_ with Malik _MY fucking hikari_ was something far beyond the dark, sexual realm that Marik knew best. Possessiveness could evidently breed the worst kind of hatred.

"I'll kill him," he growled as he retrieved his clothes from where he had tossed them earlier. For some reason, he wasn't entirely surprised to hear a disapproving voice reply behind him.

"A sporting decision, as always. I suppose there are worse things than prison."

Marik didn't turn around. Instead, he angrily focused on putting his pants back on. "I'll make another sporting decision very soon to rip something off you that your hikari will sorely miss."

Even without being able to see his face, it was obvious that the Pharaoh was scowling deeply. "It's nothing like what you think. Yugi and I just chose to foster our connection rather than abuse it. In fact, we pity you."

"Yes, yes, we're terrible people." Marik brushed it off impatiently. "I'm envious of your moral purity. Now kindly fuck off while I make my murder plans."

Funnily enough, Yami didn't obey. It was amazing that for someone who could slide in and out of rooms so surreptitiously that you were barely able to tell, when you wanted him gone, he was infuriatingly there. "Now, you see, I can't let you do that. You agreed not to do anything to Bakura because of him and Malik."

"Wrong," Marik snarled. "I agreed not to do anything to stop him doing whatever the fuck he's doing to Malik. I never agreed not to punish him for it."

"I enforce the rules, Marik. I don't allow them to be twisted. You hurt Bakura, you lose."

Whose side was the bastard on? Marik could have hit him. He very nearly did. Perhaps Yami sensed this, because with one last warning look, he left the room. Aprreciative, at least, that he could now curse under his breath in privacy, Marik was none too pleased when Malik came in the door through which Yami had gone. Was there a queue out there for talking to him or something?

Malik looked suitably embarrassed, though he was clearly trying to hide it. He may have been Marik's weaker half, but he wasn't naive, delicate and blushing.

"You weren't supposed to see that," he said flatly.

Marik highly doubted that. Bakura hadn't left the door open by accident. "Of course."

"I'm sorry. You shouldn't have had to."

"_Nobody_ should ever have to see that."

"I get that you have problems with us."

"To put it mildly."

"But," Malik said irritably, "if you don't shut the fuck up about it and stop muttering threats at us and all the rest of it, your life is only going to get a whole lot more difficult. You need to get your shit together, Marik. What the fuck were you strolling around naked for? I don't know what your game is, but it looks suspiciously like your trying to screw stuff up between us."

"You keep saying _us_," Marik said. He was glowering, looking Malik straight in the eye. Confrontation didn't bother him; he lived to fight. "_Us, us, us._ You aren't the fairy prince and princess, you idiot. I'm just putting a stop to what I know is wrong. Bakura doesn't give a shit about you."

"You're wrong," Malik objected immediately; automatically. He even sounded as if he believed it.

"You think anything he does is for you? I thought you were as gullible as the Pharaoh is straight, but evidently not. Bakura hates his own hikari. Why should he care about mine?"

An angry, red flush began to colour Malik's face. "How insecure do you think I am? He wants me. Just because I wasn't born evil doesn't mean I'm not hot."

"Wrong answer," Marik snapped. "He 'wants' you because you're _my_ hikari. He's rubbing it in my face that he can take what's mine. That's all it's been from the beginning!"

"_You're wrong!_" Malik said again, much louder. "Your stupid jealousy can twist this however the fuck it wants to, but you can't convince me. You're right: as far as yami and hikari go, I'm yours. But the fact that Bakura and I are together has _nothing_ to do with that! Nothing! So - " He looked as though he had several more things he wanted to say, but couldn't spit them out with enough force. "So fuck you," he said finally.

He began to back out of the room, still facing Marik as though he might pounce on him from behind. Or as though he, Malik, was waiting for some last-ditch attempt to argue from Marik. If the latter, Marik indulged him. "Just watch him. I won't say or do anything else. But the proof will come from him."

He knew his own hikari well enough to know that the idea unnerved him.

* * *

Bakura's solace following the afternoon's disaster was that Marik seeing him and Malik having sex must have been a whole lot worse than them seeing Marik naked. After all, Marik's body was pretty much identical to Malik's, so Bakura had effectively seen Marik naked dozens of times before.

Oh god, that wasn't helping at all.

But it was true: he almost had to force himself to feel disgusted at what he'd seen, because despite it belonging to his worst enemy, he knew that body intimately. He probably knew how to make it scream...

"Fuck!" He slammed his fist into the wall. He had retreated into his bedroom for a while, planning his next move. And coping with the ramifications of his last one. It wouldn't have been a good idea for him to see anyone right now anyway - he didn't want to listen to Ryou's prying questions, nor keep up any loving charade for Malik, nor be lectured by Yami, and Marik - well, enough said. Everyone was just so _irritating._ The sooner he could make Marik crack, the sooner everyone could get out of here.

He had no doubt that he had the astronomical advantage here, but Marik was pulling something he hadn't predicted, and - though it pained him to admit it - he didn't particularly understand. It couldn't possibly have been a legitimate attempt to seduce Ryou. Even Marik wasn't stupid enough to think that would work; Ryou's reaction had been more than enough to confirm that he had been horrified. Was Marik simply trying to negate his, Bakura's, plan by stealing the element of surprise? It was possible.

Well, he couldn't let that happen, now could he? However reluctantly, he opened the door, letting the light, which was significantly brighter than that inside his room, pour in. It only took moments for him to find a very agitated-looking Malik sitting alone in the kitchen.

"Where's the bastard?" Bakura asked conversationally.

"What do you care?" Malik shot back. "Not everything is about him, and it's about time he learned that."

Bakura was oddly surprised. What had got Malik so pissy? And was he pissed off at him, or at Marik? It wasn't quite clear.

"I see," he answered flatly. "Fine. I didn't ask."

Without Marik nearby, there was no reason to play extra nice with Malik. Before Marik's jealousy had become known, Bakura had treated Malik pretty much the same way he'd treated Ryou, only for some reason, Malik had liked it. However he seemed, he was as twisted as the best of them. If Bakura had been with someone softer, like Ryou, he wouldn't have been able to risk the lovey shit just to enrage Marik, for risk that the hikari would think it was real. If he thought it was real, then the whole thing would screw itself up.

Leaving Malik to brood about whatever the hell it was, Bakura moved on to seek out Marik. He began to hear his voice coming from somewhere down the other end of the house, and suspected it was too much to hope for that he was talking to Yami.

Indeed, Marik's voice was soon accompanied by Ryou's. Bakura decided not to intrude - yet. The need to thwart Marik's plans wasn't dire right now.

"... and I was just embarrassed!" Ryou was saying. "I can't pass off ridiculous situations as normal the way you guys can, and I haven't ever witnessed anything so ridiculous in my life. But it wasn't - you know - anything personal."

_Is he apologising for seeing that bastard's junk? Oh, for fuck's sake, Hikari, you're a disgrace._

"Understandable," Marik replied calmly. "There are some things just too horrible to witness."

"No!" Bakura could practically hear Ryou's face turn red. "No, not _horrible_! I mean - I didn't _want_ to see, but - but it was just a huge shock. I didn't want to gouge my eyes out or anything."

"I meant," Marik was clearly smirking, "seeing your worse half having it off with your friend. But I'm glad for the validation that what I have to offer isn't gouge-worthy."

"Oh - oh."

"Oh, stop looking like you're about to crawl in a hole and die. You saw something you liked. No shame there."

"You're terrible."

"You're not terrible enough. I know a bit about what goes on inside that head of yours. You want what we have."

If it weren't so ludicrous, Marik's ploy would have been very insidious and intelligent. Bakura could see right through it: he was trying to take advantage of the inevitable curiosity that came with seeing someone naked; trying to open the firmly-locked doors in Ryou's mind that concealed the natural imagination of a young male; trying to convince him that he wanted Marik when he didn't know it himself.

Only Ryou didn't want 'what we have', as Marik had called it. He seemed to advocate resistance of temptation so much that he could have headed a religion. Marik's strategy wouldn't work.

"Society pounds the idea into you that getting what you want is a bad thing," Marik continued. "But I know that you know it would be the best fucking thing that ever happened to you. And - " He paused, probably grinning devilishly. " - now I know what you really want. And I can give it to you."

Bakura's pulse was involuntarily racing. It must have been the anticipation of hearing Marik get shut down. _Go on, Hikari, win me this bet right now._

"Marik," Ryou said softly. "I - "

_Go on._

"I'm listening."

Bakura froze.

"You're right. So, I'm listening."

_Fuck_.


	6. Chapter 6

That shit. That utter, deadshit _bastard._

Bakura wasn't angry at Ryou. No; that boy didn't have a clue what in the seven hells he was signing his life away for. Marik could have told him he should work in a brothel for a while and he would have gone away smiling, agreeing with every word.

The person who fed the shit was more dangerous than the person who ate it. Marik had to go.

But Bakura only had as much time as it took for Yami to decide that Ryou's interest in Marik was genuine, and that might have been mere seconds. He wasn't likely to have missed that sorry display, Marik's attempts at swaying Ryou to the dark side. Perhaps he'd already made up his mind and declared to himself that Marik was the victor, but somehow, Bakura didn't think so. The Pharaoh would've come straight to him to rub it in his face.

Breaking up with Malik, along with going abstinent for an agonisingly long time, was not on the cards. The punishment had meant nothing to Bakura when he and Marik had been drawing up the rules of their wager, but for the first time all day, his thoughts drifted to the potential reality of it. Rookie error. 'As soon as you've started thinking about defeat...' and all that. No. He had to regroup, and rethink his position. He needed to hit Marik where it hurt the most. He needed –

" - to make the fucker beg for mercy," he snarled out loud.

He knew instinctively that someone was listening to him, but he assumed it was only Yami, so he didn't think to censor himself – not in regards to cursing, but in regards to mentioning even abstractly that he had been planning something. As a result, he froze when he turned about and saw Malik standing at the other end of the room.

"How I wish I could believe you were talking about me," Malik said sourly.

Bakura wasn't entirely aware of how much he had said aloud, so he didn't know how best to save face. If Malik suspected that he was being toyed with, things could start going wrong.

"Let me guess," he continued. He walked forward, his expression getting less and less jovial with each step. "You were thinking and mumbling about Marik again. As usual."

This seemed like an addition to the little hissy fit he'd had earlier. Bakura calmed down, but then anger of his own began to edge into his consciousness. He didn't have _time_ to deal with Malik's girly shit right now!

"Monitor my thoughts all you like," he snapped. "But don't come whingeing whenever you find something there that doesn't agree with you."

"I'll tell you exactly what I don't agree with whenever it fucking pleases me!" Malik shot back. He used his height to its fullest advantage, drawing himself up and getting right in Bakura's face. Bakura didn't appreciate it at all.

"If you think I'm going to listen to this . . . "

"Oh, you _will_ listen." Where the hell did this attitude come from? "I always knew you were a – a crazy, disturbed psycho, but what you're doing is just sick."

Bakura didn't know how much he knew. "And what is it that I'm supposedly doing?"

"Marik!"

There was a short, stunned silence, followed by a harsh laugh from Bakura. His eyes contained no humour. "You're barking up the wrong tree, you shit." Malik winced slightly, not coming under Bakura's wrath often, but he recovered quickly. "I wouldn't touch the bastard with a ten-foot mace."

"But you might as well be doing him. He's the one you're thinking about every time you do me!" Malik yelled.

"Bullshit!"

"This entire relationship is just a farce. Just your way of winning against Marik!"

"_Bull-fucking-shit!_" Bakura roared.

He saw what was coming out of the corner of his eye, but too late for him to react. While he was preoccupied with glaring right into Malik's face, Malik had shot his right fist towards Bakura in a painfully accurate hook to the mouth. Bakura staggered, almost fell, and clutched his head as his jaw burned from being struck temporarily out of alignment. Malik may not have been the hardest hitter, but he knew just the right place to hit to make it hurt the most.

By the time Bakura stopped seeing stars, Malik was no longer in the room with him. He was furious; he had no idea where that fight had come from, and no idea what it meant for the future.

"Bull-fucking-shit," he muttered.

* * *

Marik, on the other hand, was lying on the couch, feeling more at ease than he had in weeks. He had this bet in the bag now. Even he hadn't expected his little gamble with Ryou to pay off instantly! Even if Ryou had been in on the bet, he wouldn't have played along so well. It had just worked, in every possible way.

"_I know how to give you what you want, Ryou."_

"_Tell me."_

"_You liked seeing me naked."_

"_I – yeah. Yes."_

"_Don't stammer, kid. I've already told you, you saw something you wanted. That's only natural. And now, you need to see it again. Oh, don't look so fucking horrified! I'm doing you the biggest favour of your life."_

"_I – I just meant that maybe right here wouldn't be the best place for . . . that. I mean, we're right in the open. Any of the others could just walk in."_

"_Which would bother me about as much as it did before. I don't give a rat's ass if anyone thinks what I do is obscene, and neither should you. In fact . . . "_

"_I get worried when you have that expression on your face."_

"_We won't do this now. I won't tell you when it'll happen, but sometime tonight, I'll find you. And I'll be naked."_

"_That sounds – better, actually."_

"_And when that happens, you will look at me."_

"_I guess."_

"_No matter who else is around."_

"_Who else is – woah, woah! I don't want you choosing a time when everybody else is around! You shouldn't strut around naked like that!"_

"_This is what it's going to take to help you, Ryou. You have to let go. And even if there are other people there, even if they see exactly what you're doing and look horrified, you will _look_ at me and take in _every, dirty detail_ of my body."_

Ryou had nodded dumbly, his sensible mind clearly not quite caught up with what his ears had heard, leaving Marik in a rather interesting position. Wait too long, and the embarrassment of the conversation would hit Ryou, and he'd have no part of any naked shenanigans. But act too soon, and his curiosity wouldn't have time to fester until it burst out of him. That needed to happen – if Marik knew the Pharaoh, there was no way he, righteous prick that he was, would believe Ryou wanted any of this unless he heard the boy scream it from the rooftops.

And, of course, he couldn't leave it too late. Ryou had to go to sleep sometime, even if he, Marik, didn't notice such trivialities as day and night much any more.

Still, he could afford to relax. Little though he liked to bask in a victory before it had actually been achieved, his mind wandered onto thoughts of a Bakura-free life, in which he and Malik were all on their own and free to drink and cause havoc and screw whenever they wanted.

Screw _other people_, that is. Not each other. Marik had no interest in Bakura's sloppy seconds.

He wasn't sure why he had to make that clarification in his own head; it wasn't as though anyone around could hear his thoughts. Not even Malik could do something as prying as that. And yet Marik had the irritating sensation that his thoughts were taking themselves in directions of which he did _not_ approve – how dare his own mind make it sound like he wanted to fuck his other half?

Automatically, he blamed Bakura. Thief bastard trying to put things in his head that he didn't want there.

All of a sudden, the feeling of his thoughts being read shifted to that of being watched.

"Pharaoh," he groaned, shutting his eyes in exasperation. "Announce yourself already. Didn't I warn you about this?"

"Ah yes. Your tasteful little rhyme from earlier." Yami's voice was similarly wearied.

"Getting tired?"

"I don't know about you, but the body I have now is human. It needs sleep on occasion. As, you ought to know, does Ryou's."

Marik shot up from where he had been lying contentedly, his face possibly showing more alarm than he meant it to. "What do you mean? He's out already?"

"Not quite, but it won't be long at all," Yami answered. Then with some trepidation, as if not sure he wanted to ask, he added, "I saw what you did with him just now. I don't know how you got him to say those things, but I'm not convinced. You could have been doing something to him that I couldn't see, or he could have just been humouring you."

"Oh, he wasn't." Marik's lip curled. "You just want to believe he was."

"Nevertheless, the bet isn't settled by that. You're going to have to do better."

Marik never claimed he planned otherwise. He knew he already had Ryou. Now he just had to make sure everybody else knew – in excruciating detail. Ryou himself would scream it for them.

* * *

Bakura, still riled from his argument and subsequent fistfight with Malik (did it count as a fight if only one hit was thrown?), walked with purpose. He knew Ryou well enough to be aware that the boy would be on his way to bed at any moment, and that would be the end for Marik. Nobody ever did crazy shit in the morning, Ryou least of all.

But to stall Marik for that long would be no easy task, because he was positive that the evil bastard had something diabolical in mind. He was also positive he knew what.

Marik wasn't making Ryou _like_ him or _fall in love_ with him. He was simply promising him a single hot night.

It was working so far better than Bakura could have ever imagined, but there was no way he was going to let it continue. He would make it his mission to make sure Ryou went straight to bed and had no more of this shitty business. Hell, the very thought of Marik and Ryou together . . . it enraged Bakura . . . he remembered that naked body, so like his own boyfriend's –

_No!_ his mind screamed at him.

He refused to think of Marik's body. It disgusted him. And besides, in order to save Ryou, he had to put his own plan into action, and he would need absolutely all his concentration to pull it off. There was no time to waste on stupid images that attempted to burn themselves into his memory.

It would be the hardest thing he'd ever have to do in his life, but he hated Marik enough to make the sacrifice.

* * *

**Author's note: **Hello! I swear I'm going to finish this, and hopefully very soon. I'm going to Japan next week so I'll have lots of writing time on the plane. Maybe I'll even finish it before then! Only two, at a stretch three, chapters to go. Thank you for being so patient after all these years - I know it really, truly looked like I'd given up! It's really difficult to keep writing this, and any fanfics, after all these years, just because I've changed so drastically. When I started writing this, I was a sex-obsessed, angry, slightly chubby teenager. Now I'm happy, in shape and getting married at the end of the year! But I've tried to keep this story as true to its beginning as I can, even if I no longer swear quite as much.

Hope you're enjoying this! The next chapter will be AWESOME, I promise.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: **And finally, here's the glory chapter! By which I mean the _real_ lemon chapter. God, it feels weird to be writing a lemon again. Anyway, the next chapter, which is already mostly written, is the final one of this story. Making this easily my longest completed fic ever!

This site's done something funny to my italics. I've gone through and corrected all that I could find, so I hope I didn't miss any. Enjoy!

* * *

That midnight, Marik was a man on a mission.

No, he didn't like that. 'Man' sounded so weak and unimpressive. How was he supposed to exude darkness and confidence if he called himself a mere man?

'Stud'? he pondered. Nah. Too horsey.

'Bronze god'? Nah. Too Buddha.

'Superior lord master of the shadows and all things evil'? Actually, he recalled Bakura going by that title some months ago. Shame he stopped, really; it would've been so easy to mock.

In the end, Marik decided upon 'fiend'. Simple, evil and crafty. He felt that suited him. After all, he was pulling off this Ryou-seducing shit without any effort at all. Everything was going according to plan. Hell, he was even outplaying the Pharaoh in this game – not that the king himself even realised he was playing.

Marik patted the beloved object concealed within his clothes. So perhaps it could be called cheating. Ryou really shouldn't have been so easily influenced by a little mind control. Most people could fight it to some degree.

He found Ryou in the bathroom, alone, wearily contemplating his reflection.

"Oh, little light." He chuckled, causing Ryou to jump. "I do believe it's time for your lesson."

"M – Marik." Ryou ducked his head down, embarrassed. "I – I thought you said you'd be . . . "

"Naked? I did, didn't I? Well, we'll have to both make sure I fulfil my promise."

Marik steered Ryou out, and on a whim directed him towards the same room in which they had unfortunately seen Bakura and Malik going at it. Would Ryou ever stop thinking of it as his father's room and re-christen it as the Sex Room? Marik thought it was a good idea.

"Show time," he said with a grin – half to Ryou, half to any mysterious Pharaohs who might have been eavesdropping.

* * *

Yami was indeed listening, and he heard everything. Every disgusting detail.

Frankly, it made him quite glad that _he'd_never have to have sex with Marik. Thank every god who existed and some of those who didn't that it was over.

"Marik . . . " Ryou's dazed voice travelled through the wall. "What exactly does this mean?"

_Oh, poor, naïve shouldn't have been a victim of Cyclone Psycho. You're about to realise you've been screwed over._

Marik gave a sharp bark of laughter. "Mean? I'll tell you what it means: _I win! _You hear that, Bakura, you son of a bitch?" he roared, so the whole house could hear. "_I fucking win!_"

"Marik?"

"Oh, don't look so fucking crestfallen. You had fun. Hell, I had fun and I've done it with the best! So well done, commiserations, and that's all, folks."

"Wh – where are you going?" Ryou's voice had an edge of panic to it.

"None of your fucking business. Have fun dealing with a horny, angry Bakura for the next three months."

And before Yami even had time to dimly register that Bakura was probably always horny and angry, Marik had swaggered past, fully dressed.

Even though Yami had erstwhile been backing Marik over Bakura, he had to admit he was reconsidering. He never thought it would go this far, that Ryou would get so hurt. Delaying the inevitable moment when he would have to tell Marik he'd won, Yami anxiously went into the bedroom.

Ryou was sitting on the messed-up bed, still half undressed but covered up all the same. His hair was covering most of his face and he was making no effort to move. Anyone who saw him could tell immediately that he was suffering.

Yami sat down beside him and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry," he said dolefully. "I wish it hadn't happened. But when it comes to Marik or Bakura, it's impossible to know what will happen."

Ryou didn't answer, but his shoulders quivered slightly, like he was fighting back tears.

"He'll pay," Yami continued. "I won't forgive him for using you so callously."

Still no words.

"Please, Ryou. Say you'll be all right."

"Pharaoh," said a rather different voice from the one he was expecting. "Didn't Marik order you to sing a little something whenever you enter a room?"

Yami reeled back like he'd been electrified. Meanwhile, "Ryou's" shoulders continued to shake with undisguised laughter.

* * *

There was never any question about whether Bakura could convincingly pretend to be Ryou. It would have been an insult to suggest otherwise. The hardest part would be restraining himself from laughing while Marik made the biggest mistake of his life.

It wasn't a mistake for Bakura, though. A mistake and a sacrifice were two very different things.

But at midnight, he didn't even really know how much mistaking and sacrificing there was to be. All he knew for certain was that Ryou had just gone to bed, so he, Bakura, had to draw Marik's attention elsewhere.

All it took was a set of daggy clothes, a wide-eyed expression and a quick brush of the hair. And the voice, of course; he'd never heard Ryou make sex noises, but he assumed there'd be a 'goodness!' and an 'oh my!' in there.

It was lucky he worked fast, because Marik zoned in on him just as he finished on the hair. A quick word, and then they were headed to the bedroom. Honestly. Like the real Ryou would need this little convincing.

"Show time," Marik announced, and Bakura couldn't have agreed more.

"Listen, Marik," he said in his meekest voice. "I – I think I'm having second thoughts. We should really . . . take some time . . . "

He pretended to falter as Marik removed his own shirt, revealing that chest that oh-so resembled Malik's.

"Darling Ryou." Marik's growl was almost like a purr. "Don't get cold feet on me now. Here – let me offer you a little coercion."

"Oh no – oh, really, I don't think – "

This time, he faltered for real. Because he had just seen something that had until now been hidden by Marik's shirt – something he thought had been long buried.

The Millennium Rod.

After the surprise, Bakura felt irritated that Malik had been stupid enough not to notice it sitting in his own house. Then he felt a sort of indignant fury.

_The bastard's been cheating!_

But he couldn't say anything now. Staying in character was the only thing he knew that would work for certain. He would have to go with it.

He felt a distantly familiar coldness wash over him, and he realised Marik was trying to control him. _Trying _being the operative word, because Bakura had never had any trouble dispelling the Rod's effects. Ryou, on the other hand . . .

Well, this was the kind of sacrifice he had planned for. He couldn't just deny Marik. He would have to pretend to be under the Rod's control.

He could feel the magic echoing Marik's will through his mind, even though nothing about it was compelling him to obey: _don't fight. Say you suppose you are curious, after all._

"Well," he said, trying to recall what a mind slave sounded like. "I guess – I suppose I am curious, after all."

"Excellent," Marik said. "Now, I'm sure you'll be a natural, but since you're new to all this, I hope you don't mind me giving you a few instructions."

_Say of course not, and you'll obey as best you can._

"Of course not," Bakura said politely. "I'll obey as best I can."

He didn't know what these instructions would be, but no matter. He could handle it. He had a will of iron.

"Take off your shirt."

The Rod's power tuned down to a gentle buzz, not telling him to say or do anything specific: just a basic message of _obey_. So he did so.

"Mm, wonderful," Marik said appreciatively. "You're fitter than I thought you'd be."

Ryou probably couldn't do a single crunch.

"Thank you." Bakura looked away, feigning embarrassment. "Nobody's ever said – I hardly ever get – "

"Compliments can be a huge turn-on if they're done right. In fact, tell me what you think of my body." Marik teasingly toyed with his zipper.

Bakura wanted to wrinkle his nose like a true Brit and tell Marik his stomach had gone a tad spheroid.

_Obey._

"You . . . you look wild and adventurous. Like you've done things I can't imagine. Your hair is windswept and your skin shines like it's being hit by the sun, even though we're indoors."

Yeah, he was quoting some sap he'd messed around with a year ago. That whinger could sue.

Marik was nodding, not hugely impressed, wanting better. Well, Bakura _had _better; he just knew that Ryou would start off badly and get better as he went.

"Seeing your body," he continued, "puts all these thoughts into my head, and I can't stop them. Thoughts I didn't even know I could have. And images I never thought I could picture."

"What kind of images?" Marik asked, eyes now glittering with interest. Honestly. Bakura wanted an Oscar. He wasn't even racking his brains for ideas, just saying the first things that came to his head.

"Stuff I swore I'd never speak about," he whispered, leaning forward as if he was itching to be closer to Marik. "But I can't keep anything from you. These images . . . I'm always desperate for you. I never care how dirty or depraved, I just feel like your body commands me to please it."

Marik was grinning like a hyena that had found a carcass. "Oh, _very_ good." At last he had undone his zipper. "Get over here, then. My body commands you to touch it."

Bakura wanted to throw up, but he rushed forward to display eagerness. He forced his body to stay relaxed even though it naturally stiffened at the unwanted contact with his worst enemy.

"Where should I touch?" he inquired softly.

"Wherever you want. Don't be shy."

But the Rod was giving a different message, much more specific. Dirty bastard. Well, all right, it was entirely ordinary, but like hell Bakura was going to debase himself like that.

_Obey._

Shit. Okay.

Bakura gritted his teeth and focused on everything but the task at hand. "Is it okay if I kneel while I – I touch you?" he asked innocently.

He heard Marik give a low groan. "Definitely."

So he dropped to his knees in front of Marik, hands lightly passing over his waist and hips as he went. On a whim, he trailed his fingers over Marik's stomach, and felt it twitch a little bit.

"Shit, Ryou, that tickles."

Oh, that was too good. Bakura had to tell someone that Marik and Malik had the same sexual nuances. It occurred to him that maybe there was some amusement to be gained from this, once he got past the abject horror. So he relaxed, and decided to have some fun.

He leaned forward to touch with his cheek the area just underneath Marik's bellybutton. He uttered a surprised, "So smooth . . . " and 'accidentally' brushed his chest against the growing bulge in Marik's pants. He received an approving growl.

If only Marik knew who was turning him on like this. Bakura slowly pulled down on Marik's open pants, taking his black boxer-briefs with them. He mused for a second, positive he'd heard Marik brag he could run marathons with no underwear, but then remembered the Ishtars had come straight from prison. Underwear was probably wise.

Marik was now naked, and the orders from the Millennium Rod were loud and clear.

_Now. Right fucking now. Lesson number fucking one: giving good head._

Bakura doubted an order like that was even coherent enough to be magically obeyed. Still, he had to try. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth.

It would've been a lot easier to pretend this was Malik if Marik would shut up. Sadly, Bakura supposed he was just too good at this. The Rod was giving no orders now; he was in charge. Marik would address him as God if he demanded it right now.

He knew this dance like the back of his hand, after all the practice with Malik. Soon Marik would howl for him to stop, orgasm imminent, and they would go for the grand finale. Tried and true.

But suddenly, things changed as Marik grabbed Bakura's hair and orgasmed on the spot, mid-blow job. Bakura's eyes bulged as he, caught off guard, gasped and choked a bit.

_Prick_, he thought angrily.

Marik laughed wickedly. "Lesson number two, right there. Am I too much for you to handle, Ryou?"

Hating him, Bakura fawned, "I don't know if anyone could ever handle you."

He felt Marik's hands yanking him to his feet. "The bed. Now."

Bakura was legitimately surprised. He said, "But – but didn't you just – you know – "

"What can I say? My body's a people-pleaser. Now, off with those."

Marik pointed at Bakura's (well, Ryou's, really) trousers, and Bakura's deft hands obeyed. For a moment he wondered if Marik was about to return the oral favour, but of course he didn't. He wouldn't. He just hovered over Bakura's midsection.

"Just one more lesson to go, Ryou." He grinned devilishly.

His hands curled up around Bakura's hips – and flipped him over. Christ, he was strong. But hold on. What was he doing?

Marik was climbing on top of him, pinning him down so he couldn't fight. Bakura felt hands roaming purposefully south.

Oh, shit no. A blow job was one thing, but did Marik honestly fucking think –

White-hot rage coursed through Bakura's veins as he realised that of _course _Marik honestly fucking thought he'd be the one doing the fucking. As if _anyone _would let Ryou do the job. But Bakura would not submit to Marik.

But Marik was ready, set and gone and Bakura screamed his frustration and fury and hatred, knowing it would just sound like Ryou screaming in pain.

Everything began to become a blur of thoughtless sensations, most of them familiar but a couple of them new. It wasn't the first time Bakura had been taken rather than taking, but it was the minority of his sexual encounters, and never was his partner anything like Marik. Even Malik was completely different. Most people felt like they were fumbling with uncertainty, but Marik radiated absolute confidence with every movement.

He _knew _Bakura's body, without any experience with it. It was unheard of.

Bakura barely registered his anger leaving him, as his body went on autopilot. It knew what to do, even if his head couldn't keep up, and it led him to a fierce orgasm. The sheets could be tossed in the morning, he figured.

Marik came soon after, roaring his pleasure and collapsing, spent. A double orgasm was no easy feat. Nevertheless, Bakura wasn't going to waste time pretending to bask in the afterglow, or whatever people like Ryou did.

"Marik . . . what exactly does this mean?"

And while Marik cackled maniacally about his victory, Bakura feigned devastation, while privately feeling rather smug about having bedded both Ishtars within twelve hours of each other on the same bed. Now _that_ was victory.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's note: **All right, so this is the final chapter! It is more than twice as long as any other chapter, but I really didn't want to split it into two. It was a killer to write, and I vastly prefer the last chapter, but at this point I'm kind of just glad that I don't have to think about what to come up with next for these guys any more. My advice is that if you start a story, FINISH IT WITHIN ONE OR TWO YEARS. Otherwise things get really, _really_ difficult.

* * *

The rest of the night-slash-early-morning passed in peace and quiet, although nobody really slept well. Everyone had something or other on his mind.

Marik was lying on the couch with the TV on, gleeful as he imagined announcing that he had won, that everything had gone to plan, to Bakura the next day.

Yami was in a spare bedroom (_not_ the Sex Room), still trying to get his head around what he'd seen and heard, and being somewhat frightened by Bakura's dedication to the bet.

Ryou had been asleep since eleven forty-five and was oblivious to what had gone on. However, he was having some rather alarming dreams about everyone he knew forgetting what clothes were and running around naked in public.

Malik was perfectly still next to Bakura, pretending to be asleep, but burning with anger inside. He hated everything Marik said to him, and hated that Bakura did nothing but prove his point. Bakura made a _terrible_ boyfriend, and Malik was only going to abide so much of his shit. And why the hell was he tossing and turning like that?

Bakura had all but forgotten he was in his bed with someone else. His mind was a mess. He kept replaying the events in his head over and over again, each time noticing things he hadn't the previous time.

_No, I didn't fucking moan. I don't moan. Honestly._

And even though he was vaguely aware of Malik's naked body next to his, he was thinking about Marik's. He didn't want to, but the memory was there. He couldn't tell if his mouth was dry or salivating or both at the same time.

He couldn't tell if he loathed sex with Marik or revelled in it or both at the same time. Somehow.

And he had been so elated immediately after, by both his victory and the Pharaoh's horror. That one still made him snicker. If there was one thing he loved more than winning itself, it was shocking people with how far he was willing to go to win.

Bloody Marik, making him suddenly feel like he had hardly won at all –

"Bakura," said Malik, obviously irritated, "lie still or I'll smother you."

And now Malik again. Every Ishtar was out to screw him and then royally piss him off.

* * *

It was eleven o' clock, and the bet officially ended at half past. The mood was very tense, mostly due to the fact that all five people were sitting and eating at the one table. Noise levels varied between frosty silence and awkwardly loud chewing.

Bakura was looking disgruntled, which Marik noted with interest. Did he know about last night?

No better time to find out.

"Say, Ryou, what's the best sex you've ever had?"

Everyone either dropped, banged or choked on something after Marik said this. Both Ryou and Bakura turned a delightful, identical shade of puce, presumably for very different reasons.

"_Excuse_ me?" Ryou spluttered over his cereal. "Why would you – would I – I don't have to answer that!"

"Good response," Bakura growled, which possibly shocked everyone even more.

"Did you just compliment me?"

"Honestly, Bakura," Marik said, shaking his head. "One would think you didn't want Ryou to reveal something. _You_ weren't his best, were you?"

"No!" three voices yelled: Bakura, Ryou and Malik.

"There's nothing like that between them," Malik snapped. "Never has been."

"Oh? Well, what about you, hikari of mine? You don't embarrass easily."

That was indeed a claim Malik made a lot. He had a slight obsession with convincing people he was unshakeable. Innately good, but with a brazen exterior.

"Fine." He stabbed at some food with his fork. "But it's not interesting or anything. My best sex w- _is_ Bakura. About the only reason anyone can cope with him."

Marik's lip curled. "How insightful." His predatory gaze left Malik and moved on to the Pharaoh. "And how about – "

"Leave me out of this," Yami said bluntly.

Fine by Marik. He didn't particularly want the details of Yami and Yugi 'making love' or 'sharing themselves completely' or whatever the hell they did. "You, Bakura?" he said in his sweetest, most poisonous voice.

"Mind your own fucking business."

Bakura didn't even look up; didn't see Marik's grin or Malik's look of murderous rage, infuriated that the correct answer – him – had not been given. And was that a troubled expression on Bakura's face?

Dramatically, enjoying his game, Marik sighed. "Was that question really so hard? Fine, I'll make it easier. No thinking or comparing involved. When did you _last_ have sex?"

"Yesterday afternoon," Malik answered immediately, showing his shamelessness. He was still glaring.

"We know," Ryou said miserably.

"And you, dear Ryou?"

"Why me?" he exclaimed. "Why the sudden obsession with getting me to reveal my sex life?"

Yami cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Ah. I believe I know."

"Yes, the Pharaoh knows all about it, don't you?" Marik smirked.

Bakura still wasn't looking up, but Marik was _definitely_ going to get his attention. And crack him, hopefully. Make him explode, and blow his fling with Malik to smithereens.

"I think I'm missing something," said Malik.

"Oh, well then, it would only be polite of me to inform you," Marik replied lightly. "Ryou and I had sex last night."

And there it was: Bakura's death stare. A beautiful thing.

"_Huh?_" Ryou looked like someone had smacked him in the face.

"Like fuck you did," Bakura growled.

"Oh, we did, thief. Ryou's just playing innocent. And while he does it so well, I have to say, now I think I prefer his guiltier side . . . "

"_Like fuck you did!_" Bakura roared, jumping from his seat, which clattered to the floor. Marik laughed maniacally has Malik tried to calm Bakura down; meanwhile Ryou seemed too stupefied to deny anything, and the Pharaoh was shaking his head with . . . pity?

Well, anyone might pity Bakura, knowing how badly he had just lost.

"Christ, Bakura, get a hold of yourself!" Malik yelled, grabbing the thief's shoulders to restrain him. "You don't think _he_ was angry the first time you slept with me?"

"And every time after that," Marik interjected.

"But I'll tell you what I told him then: none of your goddamn business."

Bakura was seething. Disgusted, he stormed out of the kitchen and down the corridor. Marik grinned and slithered out after him.

* * *

Not bothering to shut the door behind him, Bakura trudged into the Sex Room, glaring at the bed as if everything were its fault. Maybe it was. If it hadn't been here, he would have had sex with Malik somewhere else, and not seen Marik naked.

If it hadn't been here, he and Marik wouldn't have – well, they _would_ have – who was he kidding? But maybe if they'd just done it against the wall, he wouldn't have enjoyed it so much.

Yes, he'd enjoyed it.

A lot.

And the longer he thought about it, the more he enjoyed it in hindsight. It had been raw and dark and strangely kinky: how many people could say they had sex while impersonating someone else, _and_ pretending to be under the influence of a mind-control device?

He wanted these sick feelings dealt with, though he had no idea how best to achieve it. Killing Marik seemed like a considerable option, but at the same time so did forcing him to proclaim that Bakura was the greatest fuck of his life.

Having to listen to Ryou getting positively praised out there was another thing altogether, but it still ate away at Bakura like nothing else. How dare that little shit take credit! And why didn't the Pharaoh deny what was happening?

Suddenly Marik emerged from the doorway into Bakura's vision. He still had a stupid, smug grin on his face.

"Your knickers are in quite a knot," he said. "Not that I blame you, of course. That must have been so hard for you to hear."

"You asshole – " Bakura had to stop himself from lunging at Marik. Though why he didn't just go through with it, he didn't know. But he felt instinctively that he needed restraint.

"I mean, losing a bet is one thing, but to have your own hikari betray you by having it off with someone you hate! There sure aren't many people who experience _that._"

Bakura's hands had balled themselves into fists.

"You were so sure little Ryou wouldn't fall for me, weren't you? And yet here I am, able and very willing to recount to you just how hot he was last night."

"You . . . "

"From what Malik's told me about _your _performance, Ryou's leagues ahead of you. How humiliating to be outstripped by someone so pure and inexperienced!"

"Inexperienced my ass!" Bakura exploded, unable to contain himself any longer. "You honestly believe Ryou, my whiny, conservative Ryou, could do those things to you? You think anyone else could be that good?"

Marik's grin didn't falter, but something in his eyes changed. "I'm sorry, Bakura. I don't quite understand what you're saying. Could you be clear?"

"_It was me!_" Bakura roared. "I was the one you were fucking last night! Is that clear enough for you? You weren't even close to getting Ryou, even with the Millennium Rod doing your dirty work! What do you think of that?"

Marik was frozen, either unable to speak or just unwilling. The room was flooded with silence; even breathing seemed to have ceased. Then –

"You slept with him."

Bakura's blood turned into ice.

"Oops," Marik said lightly. "I didn't see you there, Malik."

Clearly, this situation had somehow morphed into an absolute nightmare. Was Bakura dreaming or something? A second ago he had been angry, but still triumphant at delivering that blow to Marik, but Marik hadn't responded at all! He had to have cared about losing, he _had_ to. But the only one looking shocked and like he was about to lose something was Bakura.

Malik didn't look surprised, nor furious, nor upset. His face was tensed up, which made it seem like he was attempting to make Bakura die by sheer force of will. His eyes were narrowed to slits as he stared unblinkingly, neutrally, but still somehow completely venomously.

"So yesterday I was _barking up the wrong fucking tree_," he said, voice quivering dangerously. "And yet a few hours later you were only too happy to prove me right. Do you think I'm pathetic enough to let you tell me it's my fault or something? How the _hell_ did you expect me to ignore this on top of all the rest of your shit, Bakura?"

Bakura may have been an expert liar, but he was also an expert on recognising when there was no hope of explaining away a situation. Malik was a lost cause now.

But for some reason, he wasn't as bothered by that as he could have been.

"Speechless? Good," Malik snapped.

"I'm not speechless, you idiot," Bakura shot back. "Just waiting for you to shut up."

"You think you can talk to me like – "

"I'll talk to you however I bloody well want!"

"Fine." It was said with absolute resolution. "Fine, but I don't have to listen. I'm leaving. You two can have each other."

Malik turned to leave, but then stopped to face Marik.

"And give me the Rod, you traitorous son of a bitch."

"Make me," Marik snarled.

_WHAM!_ Malik's fist came out of nowhere. Bakura remembered all too well what that felt like, and wasn't surprised that Marik's cheek turned instantly red. Malik located the Rod where it was hidden in Marik's shirt and snatched it.

After he made his grand exit, he left Marik and Bakura to deal with one another. Despite having just been punched in the face, Marik looked like a kid at Christmas. Or Doctor Frankenstein with his monster coming to life for the first time.

Bakura was the first to speak. "You knew. You knew the entire time that it was me."

Marik smirked. "Of course."

"How?"

"You might make a convincing Ryou," he said, "but you make a terribly unconvincing virgin."

Although Bakura didn't know or care whether Ryou was actually a virgin or just naive anyway, the point was the same. And it wasn't even really an insult. But Bakura was still trying to get his head around this revelation.

"In that case, why the fuck did you go through with it? You wasted your time and lost the bet, Ishtar. You couldn't seduce Ryou at all."

Marik chuckled deeply. "I didn't need the bet. Winning that was of no consequence."

What the hell did that mean? The bet had been everything for the last twenty-four hours. How could he say he didn't need it when the stakes – "

Then Bakura realised something.

Oh, he had been _stupid._ An idiot. String along by Marik in a way he hadn't anticipated.

Malik was gone. He hated Bakura's guts now. And wasn't that all Marik had wanted, not just today and yesterday, but for as long as Malik and Bakura had been together? The added stake of Bakura going without sex was merely a malicious afterthought. And even so, without Malik in the picture, who knew how long it would be before Bakura could seduce someone else? It was like he needn't have won the bet at all.

Oh dear Gods. Had he – had he _lost?_

He might as well have. What good was winning if he had lost the physical rewards of it? Keeping Malik was supposed to be his trophy.

But no: this wasn't a total failure. "Interesting that you say that, Marik. Because I seem to recall that you failing to seduce Ryou meant that you had to take your ass back to jail."

Expecting Marik to stagger in shock, Bakura was unpleasantly surprised when he laughed again.

"Oh, I remember the agreement," Marik said. "Don't you worry; I'll follow the rules."

"Like you've followed them thus far," Bakura retorted.

"What can I say? If I'd obeyed all of them, I wouldn't have succeeded."

Bakura gritted his teeth. Still, Marik was managing to turn his loss into a victory. "Your 'success' will be short-lived. Malik will come crawling back."

"My hikari doesn't _crawl_, and even if he did, what possible reason could he have for wanting you now?" Marik smirked. "He thinks you were only using him as a cheap substitute for me."

It was rubbish, of course, but Bakura would have no way of proving it. Shouting that he and Marik slept together hadn't really helped that cause. Nor had enjoying it. No! He wasn't going to think about it again!

"Let's just go!" he snapped, with a bit more vehemence than he intended. He made a move to shove his way through to the door, but Marik forcibly blocked him, grabbing his arms. The contact set Bakura's skin on fire: his body remembered what Marik had done to it last night.

But Bakura clenched his jaw and ignored the feeling. "Get out of my way."

"You don't want me to do that."

"Oh, I don't, do I? Now why the fuck might that be?"

"Because." Marik did something entirely unexpected: he pulled Bakura right up against him, so that he could whisper in his ear. "You can't fool me, thief. Surely by now you should know that."

His breath gave Bakura's neck goosebumps; how he hated the way his body kept betraying him! Did he have no control any more?

He answered, "Let go of me before I show you just how many slaughtering techniques I've invented over the last three thousand years."

Slowly, Marik released his grip. With a small snicker, he asked, "Any of them involve a tiny guillotine?"

Bakura ignored him and marched out of the room. He went back to the kitchen: Yami and Ryou didn't appear to have moved since he'd left. Upon seeing him, Ryou's face immediately took on an expression of shock mingled with disgust.

"Yami told me what you and Marik were up to, Bakura," Ryou said. "That's . . . you were . . . I don't even know where to begin. I'm horrified."

"Boo – freaking – hoo. Nothing happened, so you have nothing to complain about," Bakura said impatiently.

"Nothing to complain about! You can't just make a bet over me without my consent! And apparently Marik's had the Millennium Rod hidden on him, which explains why my memory's all hazy right now! God, it's like you didn't consider me at all!"

At that point, Marik also entered the room, and Ryou turned on him.

"And you! I defended you when Bakura said you had sick motives for being friendly with me! I didn't once think you were capable of trying to mind control me into bed!"

Marik, as usual, looked unfazed. "Well luckily, nothing happened to you. So what the hell are you complaining about?"

"That's what I – " Bakura began, before remembering to whom he was talking. "And besides, Ryou, you should be thanking me with all that you have for sacrificing myself last night. Otherwise you'd be here shrieking about what _did_ happen as opposed to would _could_ have."

"Oh yes, I'm sure sex with Marik was a _huge_ inconvenience for you," Ryou said bitterly. "You know, Malik had the right idea. I don't think I can be around you right now. I'll be back . . . eventually."

He stood up and exited without another look at either Marik or Bakura, leaving them only now with a disapproving-looking Pharaoh.

"Well done," Yami said. "You completely destroyed both Ryou and Malik. Now, if you had even a shred of the compassion I have for Yugi – "

"Shut up," Bakura and Marik said simultaneously.

"You'll never learn."

"Nope, not a chance," Marik said. "Now, I believe I have somewhere very dirty to be. Pharaoh, I lost the bet. It's an outrage, a conspiracy, a travesty, and all that crap. Mind giving me a lift?"

And as they left (Yami scowling the whole way), Marik threw Bakura a wink. "See you soon."

"Yeah, right," Bakura muttered. He never wanted to hear an Ishtar's annoying voice again.

* * *

Seven days later, he was perfectly satisfied. Ryou wasn't talking to him, Malik wasn't moaning at him, and of course Marik was in jail. Things had never been better.

Of course, he hadn't slept with anyone in a week, but that didn't dampen his spirits. Much.

Honestly, Bakura just couldn't shake the disturbing feeling that he had still been the one to lose the bet, whatever Marik admitted. He was sure that Marik was still sneering at him, even from prison – but why? What was giving him this insane idea?

He would run through the day of the bet in his mind, repeating every word and action. For the most part, he had been in control, knowing exactly what he was doing. That only changed when -

_No!_ He had to quickly shut down the mental images. After Night One of being on his own, he had discovered that remembering his sexual encounter with Marik caused his body to commit treason: it went renegade against his hatred and shot back messages of _again, again, again._ It had never felt better than it had that night, and it wasn't going to let him forget it.

Bakura forced himself to skip that part of the recollection, refusing to give in to his stupid urges.

The control only appeared to shift when Marik smugly stated that he knew it wasn't Ryou he had dominated the night before. It shifted because Bakura couldn't make head or tail out of it. If Marik had known, why did he go along with it?

To break up Bakura and Malik? No way. No one would go that far just to stop someone screwing around with his hikari.

_Oh, but wasn't that exactly the reason for your 'sacrifice'? _snickered the frustratingly truthful part of Bakura's brain.

He didn't remember his brain being able to use inverted commas. Sneaky bastard.

Yes, so he himself had slept with Marik to stop Marik screwing around with Ryou. He still _knew_ that Marik had had an ulterior motive. Aloud, he couldn't help but mumble, "Never expected to be tossing and turning over someone's reason for fucking me."

Saying the word 'fuck' made him feel calmer. And it was true: this was the first time he had ever questioned why someone would sleep with him. Every other time, it had simply been because he was hot and good in bed and the other person had known it.

_And this is different because . . . ?_

Because it was Marik.

True, that didn't make Bakura any less hot or good in bed, but he knew that to believe that something as simple as that was the answer, was to underestimate Marik. He had done his share of underestimating and being underestimated, and he wasn't going to do it again.

But, somehow, his mind became fixated on this infantile idea: _he fucked you because he wanted you._

It was stupid.

But what if it wasn't?

Where did that leave him?

_Yeah, deal with _that_, Bakura,_ his inner prick of a voice snickered.

* * *

"Oh, Boris!" crooned Marik from inside his cell. "When does the book cart come around again?"

The night shift guard, whose name was most definitely not Boris, took a deep, calming breath before answering. He always had to do that before answering Marik. "For you, I'm afraid never. You lost that privilege after you ripped out the pages of _Angels and Demons_ and drew penises on them."

And threw them at other inmates. But Marik decided not to remind him of that. "I just thought I'd summarise the story in picture form. It was a public service."

"Can't you just go to sleep?" the guard said wearily.

"Well, if you let me exercise with everyone else, maybe I'd be more tired."

"You know why you're banned from exercise."

"Oh yes, the bottomless pit incident."

"I still don't know how you – " The guard broke off, shaking his head. "Never mind. I shouldn't even be talking to you."

Marik suspected that someone had given the order that no one was to interact with him besides giving him food at meal times. He created havoc then, too (with his patented turning-water-into-wine incident), but they couldn't very well deny him food along with everything else. So he was down to no physical activity, no entertainment and no friendly chats.

"Fine," he said, turning sour. "Get back to jerking off or whatever the hell you were doing before."

The guard groaned, looking ready to die, and then he suddenly did something quite unexpected. He got up out of his special little guard's chair and began to approach Marik's cell.

Marik frowned. "I didn't mean in _here._"

Ignoring him, the guard took a thick, brassy key from his shirt pocket and began to unlock the door.

"All right, if you're coming to give me some sort of present, I don't want it. Have you cracked or something?"

"Shut it, Ishtar," the guard rasped back, in a voice not entirely his own. Marik blinked in surprise once, before a broad grin settled on his face.

"Interesting," he said.

The guard opened the cell door and then rigidly turned and walked away. A moment later, he was replaced by none other than Bakura, wielding the Millennium Rod.

"Well, hello there, gallant saviour," Marik said.

"Shut up," Bakura replied. He was scowling, as usual. "Don't make this anything more than it is."

Marik thought smugly, _I know exactly what this is._

He asked, "How's Malik doing without my staunch support?"

"Never better, I hear," Bakura grunted. "Ryou sees a lot of him."

"Oh, I see how it is. He didn't give you my Rod out of the kindness of his heart, then?"

"I'm a _thief_, Ishtar."

At this stage, neither of them had moved, but a noise from somewhere far off brought Marik to his senses. Just because he was in an isolation cell didn't mean he was off-limits to other guards. He left his cell and took a deep breath of freedom, despite still being inside. Bakura, meanwhile, was looking both irritated and troubled; an unusual combination for him.

"Anything you want to say, Bakura?" Marik offered.

No answer.

"Or ask?" he added.

That one made Bakura stir, though reluctantly. He asked in a quiet growl, "Why did you go through with it? _Any_ of it?"

Marik wasn't surprised that Bakura still had the bet on his mind. If he hadn't, he wouldn't be here.

"But you already know the answer to that," Marik said easily, looking Bakura in the (very suspicious) eye. "To get you away from Malik."

"But why did you want that? If you say it was for his welfare, I'm going to call bullshit and lock you back up."

Marik chuckled. "You seem uncomfortable evasive tonight, Bakura. Why don't you just ask what you really want to know? '_Did you do it so you could have me all to yourself, Marik?'_ That about right?"

"You son of a – "

"You'll never know if you don't ask. Was I jealous of Malik? Jealous of you? Hating you? Desperately in love with you?" He gave a Cheshire Cat smile, bearing all his teeth. "Planning weeks in advance how best to go about fucking you?"

Bakura had gritted his teeth, and his face had flushed slightly. Was he angry, or was it something hilariously different?

"Tell me," he hissed.

Marik shrugged, still grinning. "You'll just have to come to me one day looking for a lay. Then I'm sure you'll find out."

Even in jail, he hadn't lost his upper hand. Bakura, for all his arrogance, had been playing Marik's game from the beginning, and was only now becoming fully aware of it. He couldn't escape or walk away, because after being trapped for so long, he had grown invested in it. He _liked_ it, even if he didn't understand that Marik was in control.

Marik knew all of this.

He was freaking awesome.

Bakura looked like war was being waged inside him, his inner egotist fighting against his inner hedonist. His pride versus his pleasure. One had to lose.

"I'm freeing you, aren't I?" he said furiously. "I _have_ come to find out."

Not as subservient as Marik would have liked, but clearly pleasure had been the winner. He'd accept it. They walked a little way towards the exit, and Marik swiftly moved right up next to Bakura and snaked an arm around his waist. Bakura froze from what was clearly a paradoxical mix of disgust and desire – exactly as it had been on that delicious night a week ago.

"Of course I wanted you," Marik breathed. He forced Bakura to keep moving as they came closer to reaching the outside. "I don't just have sex with people, Bakura; I _own_ them. I possess every fibre of their being. I could only imagine how satisfying it would be to own you."

"You don't – " Bakura snarled.

"Oh, shut the fuck up. You know I do. If you weren't mine, you'd have left me here. In fact, I'm surprised it took you a whole week to come. Didn't want to admit anything?"

Bakura just glared. It didn't matter now how furious he became, though. He was caught.

"But anyway," Marik continued. "You went for Malik. And I couldn't have that. It wasn't jealousy – it was just anger. Anger that I'd been planning ways to get you for weeks, months even, and then suddenly Malik had the chance and he was _doing it wrong._

"He wasn't possessing you at all! You were always in complete control. And I knew that the longer you had more control over Malik than I had, the more impossible it would become for me to steal control from you."

Bakura was _hating_ this. The realisation that Marik had been seeing things in such a different light, for so long, all to defeat him. They finally reached an exit, wide open and waiting – probably from when Bakura had entered.

"So you tried to even the field by controlling Ryou," Bakura said darkly as they were bathed in moonlight.

"Being with you made Malik smug. I wasn't going to get control back easily. So yes, I went after Ryou, and I contrived to make it a competition. You wouldn't turn it down, I knew," Marik said. "And then, to make things even better, I learned that Malik had noticed the attention I paid to you. He couldn't tell if it was because I hated you or something else, and he became terrifically insecure. I played on that."

"Did you suggest something to Ryou?" Bakura asked sharply. "He asked me if you and I were a _couple._"

Marik laughed. "He did, did he? I may have hinted. I figured he and Malik would talk. Ryou's big conscience wouldn't let Malik stay involved with a cheater. But Malik wasn't sure what he believed; he needed proof. You took care of that all by yourself."

To his credit, Bakura kept composed. They were in public now (late though it was, people were still about), and causing a scene right after a jailbreak wouldn't be ideal.

"And now?" he said.

This was the easy part.

"Now, I haven't slept with anyone in a week and I'm quite tempted. And since I _own_ you now, I'm guessing you won't say no."

Marik had always known that an unwillingly subordinate Bakura would make a most exciting plaything. Last week had proven him right, and now he could have this fun for . . . how long?

Until he got bored, he supposed.

He was so fucking awesome.

* * *

**The End.**

At long last. Five freaking years, right here. Hope you've enjoyed it!


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